


You Dream About Dead Guys?

by Brk4Sourwolves (pariahsdream)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bickering, Chaptered, F/F, F/M, Fudged Traveling and/or History, Happy Ending, M/M, Mummy AU, Mummy Fusion, No Damsels in Distress Here, Plot Keeps Getting in the Way, because reasons, destined lovers, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pariahsdream/pseuds/Brk4Sourwolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No harm ever came from reading a book, right? Well for one Stiles Stilinski it certainly brought with it a spate of trouble including: mysterious desert-dwelling creatures of the night, reincarnated star-crossed lovers (or just crazy people depending on who you asked) and maybe saving the world.  But really, it’s all in a day’s work for an amateur Egyptologist and <strike>all around adventurer</strike> librarian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is all because I unabashedly love _The Mummy_ and I think Stiles and Derek would fit the Evy and Rick roles rather well. This isn’t purely Teen Wolf characters in the movie’s plot- I’ve rearranged some things, added backstory and used bits and pieces from _The Mummy 2_. 
> 
> There will be an update schedule of every 2 to 3 days.

_Five thousand years ago...  in a beautiful desert kingdom there was a pharaoh called Seti I.  The second pharaoh of the 19th dynasty, he was a good pharaoh, a wise man and he was blessed by the love and admiration of his people.  His kingdom was prosperous and peaceful.  It was said that this was due to his favored warriors, the Servants of Anubis._

_The Servants of Anubis were blessed by the Lord of the Dead with great gifts- strength beyond mortal men and the ability to change from man to the god’s preferred form, great black beasts that walked on four legs and howled at the moon.  They served faithfully for many years and Seti had never had cause to doubt them..._

_Until his concubine, Anck-su-namun, seduced Imhotep.  Born of Anubis’ favored, Imhotep was not simply a warrior, he was also the architect of what was to be Seti’s greatest achievement- Hamunaptra.  The city, though not yet complete, was already famous for its treasures and its clever traps.  But for all his designs and dedication to the pharoah, Imhotep could not control his desire for Anck-su-namun.  He fell deeply in love with her, the kind of love that drives men to madness._

_It is said that Anck-su-namun seduced Imhotep in order to know the secrets of Hamunaptra, where all of Seti’s wealth was to reside, but no one knows for certain.  What is known is upon discovery of their affair, both Imhotep and Anck-su-namun murdered Seti.  Anck-su-namun stayed behind, allowing Imhotep the chance to escape but she did not wait for the Servants of Anubis to find her._

_She took her favored pet- the Egyptian Asp, the most deadly snake in the world- and poisoned herself with its bite._

_Upon discovering this, Imhotep went mad with grief! He stole the Book of the Dead and took it to Hamunaptra to raise his lost love.  But it was not meant to be- for he was discovered by Servants of Anubis and was punished for his crimes.  He was to suffer the Hom Dai-_

“Which was a truly cruel punishment.”

The small group wealthy elite had been spellbound by their pretty brunette guide’s tale of thwarted love and revenge but looked with interest at her redhead companion slipping her gloves off of dainty white fingers.

“Miss Martin, I’m not sure-”

“Nonsense, Miss Argent, I’m sure your group aren’t a bunch of scaredy-cats,” Lydia waved off the concern, batting her lashes at the gentlemen.  “While Imhotep’s servants _only_ had to suffer through their tongues being cut off and being buried alive, Imhotep was to undergo the Hom Dai.  In fact, as far as anyone has been able to establish, it had only been performed on Imhotep himself.  To be cursed by the Hom Dai was to be entombed _alive_ with the scarab beetles who would eat them slowly, _painfully_ until they succumbed to the torture.  It was a living death.”  
  
Allison shot Lydia a glare when one of her tourists fainted dead away, annoyed at the smug little smile she had on her lips.  Dealing with that took nearly twenty minutes to coax the man back from his faint, which allowed Lydia the opportunity to set up in Allison’s office for tea.  She was just pouring out two cups when the other young woman appeared.

“You know you are the worst when you’re being impatient.”  
  
“There was no point in going through any of that with them, they were nitwits and bores.”  
  
“They’re the investors, Lydia.”  
  
“Exactly,” She handed over a cup to Allison and delicately sat herself down in her chair while Allison arranged herself across from her.  “Still that wasn’t the booshwash I expected you blow your wig over.  I would assume you would have focused more on the riches of Hamunaptra rather than the old yarn about star cross’d love.”  
  
Allison shook her head.  “No, regardless of what Dr.  Harris thinks, Hamunaptra isn’t likely to be found this year or in another thousand years.  The sands have swept it away for all time I’m afraid.  Besides...  don’t you find Imhotep and Anck-su-namun’s story somewhat...  beautifully tragic?”

Lydia gave a delicate snort.  “Hardly.  Anck-su-namun was impatient.  If I were going to kill my husband, I would not get caught _and_ I would wait until after we were married so there would be no question of what I inherited.  Only then would I risk marrying my lover.”

Allison shook her head, a fond smile tugging at her lips.  “I don’t believe you’d be that cruel.” Tilting her head, she stared out at the hustle and bustle of Cairo just beyond the Museum of Antiquities’ gates.  “I think I feel the most sorry for the Anubis-kin.  Being banished from the kingdom and condemned to forever haunting the outer reaches to supposedly protect against any who would threaten the kingdom.  Still, it is better than Imhotep rising from his grave.”

“They died out thousands of years ago, I doubt your sympathies will do them much good now,” Lydia pointed out.  “Now then, let’s discuss something much more interesting than dusty old legends.  Like your aunt coming from the Continent.  I am dying to know what the latest fashions in Paris are.”


	2. In Which The Plot Device is Introduced

_Jan 2, 1933_

_Museum of Antiquities, Cairo_

 

Stiles Stilinski had a plan.  It was a solid plan that involved becoming a world famous Egyptologist, recognized by his peers the world over for his brilliance, traveling to exotic locations to share his knowledge and theories and then winning the hand of Miss Lydia Martin, thus making his name and his mom’s name worthy of being remembered in history books.

There was a slight flaw in his plans.  Tiny.  Infinitesimal.  Technically speaking he was an assistant librarian only and his seventeenth application to the Bembridge Scholars had been rejected.  Something about “having no practical experience” and “had contributed nothing of note” to the world of archeology.  Which he’d like to point out to the pompous blowhards that it was a might bit difficult to get either without good connections or the aid of a school like Bembridge.  Obviously.

“-if you would just let me-,” Stiles chased Christopher Argent down the long corridor that led from the curator’s office to the section of the museum that was still under construction.  The hallways echoed with the click of Argent’s boots; he didn’t dress like a scholar, he dressed like a soldier most of the time and did nothing to relieve his imposing demeanor.

“No! Mister Stilinski,” Argent rounded on him, baring his teeth.  “You are skating on very thin ice here.  You and that menace McCall nearly _destroyed_ an entire section of the library not a week ago!”  
  
“Nearly isn’t the same thing as _actually_ ,” Stiles pointed out and winced as Argent’s glare grew worse somehow.

“Your mother was a very fine woman and an incredible Egyptologist, I understand that you wish to follow in her footsteps but the fact of the matter is, I have Dr.  Harris on staff and he is an actual qualified scholar whose work is respected.”  
  
“He stole everything he knows from Deaton’s research,” Stiles grumbled, rubbing his fingers over his closely shaved head.  It might not be ‘the fashion’ but in Egypt, it was much easier to take care of and much cooler.  

Argent snorted, fists planted on his narrow hips, revealing the holster of the gun he carried around constantly.  “Whether or not that’s true, he’s your only option for getting any work experience around here.  If you can convince him to let you sit in on his digs then perhaps we can talk about other opportunities later.”

“But Harris hates me! For no reason!”

“I thought it was because you ended up swinging from a sarcophagus during one of his presentations to the Martins, our most prominent patrons.”   

“Well, yeah, but that was....  months ago at least!” Stiles protested, knowing that he was grasping at straws even without the little smirk on Argent’s face.  Just for that, he would cover for Scott so he could moon directly at Argent’s daughter next time Scott asked.

“Then I suggest you either find something one of a kind to bargain with or a wealth patron of your own.  Good day Mister Stilinski, I do expect the entire of the S through Z sections to be categorized before the museum closes.”

Stiles retreated to lick his wounds and actually catch up on the cataloguing he was paid to do.  He didn’t mind it but it wasn’t the same as when he was a boy.  He remembered going out on excavations with his mom and dad, being allowed to dig in the dirt next to where his mom was doing the same.  He remembered how she’d stop and look at anything he’d brought her, praising him.

That had been a long time ago but the determination to make his mom proud remained, as well as the passion for ancient history, specifically of the Egyptian variety.  Sighing to himself, Stiles leaned forward on the high ladder he was perched on to slot another book into the topmost shelves of the bookcase.

“Tuthmosis? What the hell are you doing in the “s” section?” He peered at the binding with a frown.  Glancing behind him, he considered.  The ‘t’ section was right there, slightly out of reach.  It would be annoying to climb down, rearrange the ladder and climb back up when he could just stretch out, just a little bit-  
  
“Ah Mister Stilinski-”  
  
“AAGGGH!” Stiles yelped, losing his balance and knocking into the bookshelf.  It creaked dangerously and everyone in the room held their breath.  When it did not fall, he let out a breath.  “Are you trying to kill me?!”  
  
“Were I do so, I’m certain I’d be thanked for it but no,” Harris somehow sneered down his nose at Stiles from below him, dressed in a walking suit with a cane in hand.  Curling around his arm was the beautiful Lydia Martin who bent down to retrieve the Tuthmosis book Stiles had dropped in his fright.

“Hmm, this volume is out of date anyway, you should take it off the shelves and order a new copy from England,” She ran delicate fingers across the spine.  “Or borrow from Daddy’s collection until you can get a new copy.”  
  
“You are beyond generous,” Harris cooed, looking like a ferret with indigestion.

“She must be if she’s letting you talk her ear off while she waits for Miss Argent,” Stiles couldn’t help but comment, dropping down the last few steps to land on his feet.  Adjusting his glasses, he flashed a smile towards Lydia who wasn’t even looking his way, skimming through the book with a distracted air.

Harris gave him an insincere smile.  “She is always willing to lend an ear to those of us that are more than mere clerks.  Miss Martin, did you know that Mister Stilinski here has a theory about the Book of Amun-Ra?”  
  
The redhead arched a brow, finally directing her gaze towards Stiles himself even as he turned red.  “Really? That’s the book that made of solid gold isn’t it?”  
  
“Yes-”  
  
“If it even exists,” Harris butted in.  “You see, Stilinski is merely a librarian and we know how many fiction stories are housed in libraries among the historical facts.  It’s easy for the layman to confuse the two without adequate schooling or experience.  The book of Amun-Ra, if it existed, is lost to the sands of time no doubt.”

“The book of Amun-Ra is just as real as Hamunaptra!” Stiles sputtered out.  “It was not lost and I’d prove it-”  
  
“-if only you were going on the expedition,” Harris clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.  “Quite unfortunate for you.  I will make sure to send a telegram to the museum should I find it.  Come my dear, I think we’ve wasted enough time.”  
  
Lydia shrugged her shoulders and slipped her hand into the crook of Dr.  Harris’ arm, leaving Stiles to wish that the 10 plagues of Egypt would drop on the other man’s head all at once.  

“Like you even know where to start looking,” Stiles muttered under his breath.  Hundreds of expeditions over the years, if not thousands, had gone to look for Hamunaptra in the deserts of Egypt.  Very few people ever made it back alive.  If Stiles wasn’t so disgruntled about not going, he’d be gleeful at the prospect of a Harris-free existence in his near future.

As it was, he glumly went back to cataloguing until his eyes started to cross and he was beginning to hear things.  The museum wasn’t exactly airtight and the wind often made noise when it howled hard enough.  Still, it was very disturbing when left alone with the mummified corpses of people who lived thousands of years ago.

He didn’t believe in curses.  No matter what the locals whispered ghoulishly.  No matter the rumors surrounding some digs.  No matter-

“Stiles!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Stiles did end up toppling himself over an empty coffin when Scott popped into the room with a burial mask on his head.  “For the love- stop that!”

Scott of course found that hilarious- which was fair, as Stiles used to recount the most grisly tales he could recall from his mom’s research as ‘bedtime stories’ for them both.  From the age five to twelve, Stiles was fairly certain Scott got no more than six hours of sleep at night.  The rest of the time he got scolded for falling asleep in class and had to stay after to make up for it.

“What’s eating you?” Scott’s laughter died out and real concern took its place.  “Something happen with Mister Argent?”   
  
“Harris.  He was taking the piss in front of Miss Martin,” Stiles admitted with a heavy sigh.

“Ah,” Scott winced, going quiet.  “Want me to put a bunch of boxes in front of his office door by ‘accident’ and trap him inside overnight?” He smiled, warm and definitely a little goofy.  Stiles couldn’t help chuckling at the genuine offer.

“Nah, it’d give everyone a headache listening to him caterwaul,” Stiles shook his head, grateful for his brother.  Well to be entirely accurate, Scott wasn’t exactly his brother.  They were brothers by marriage and Scott was Stiles’ only friend in the somewhat unfriendly Museum.  They had met as children, thanks to Stiles’ mum.  Scott’s father had been a foreman on some of her digs but he quickly outed himself as a wastrel and a terrible man.  He abandoned Mrs.  McCall not very long after Stiles first met Scott.

Although he missed his mother terribly, Stiles was quite happy that his dad and Mrs.  McCall had gotten married and were now enjoying a honeymoon back on the Continent.  His dad had joked that it was the first bit of peace and quiet either of them had in years.  

“You know you’ll always have me,” Scott bumped their shoulders together, a warm smile on his lips.  Stiles nodded and mumbled noncommittally under his breath.  

“Well if that doesn’t help, I’ll have to pull out....  the big guns,” Scott sighed dramatically before slipping a strange octagonal shaped box out of his pocket.  

Stiles immediately perked up, grabbing it out of his hand to turn over and over again.  It was old, very old and oddly light for the material it was made out of.  It could be hollow but there were complex mechanisms holding it together as well as simple, remarkably precise designs that he’d seen before.  

“This is...  look, look, look!” Stiles yiped excitedly, grabbing at Scott’s chin so he’d know exactly where Stiles was looking.  “See here at the bottom, these are phases of the moon! And, and this particular style was _only_ used prior to Seti I! This belonged to a Servant of Anubis or their household, where did you find this you beautiful, beautiful man you?!”

“Aidan got into it with some man in the bazaar.  I was going to return it to him but-”

“What?!  Tell me you know who he is, where he is! I need him, Scott!” Stiles grabbed up Scott by his slightly wrinkled collar which was considerably more wrinkled now.

“Uh, he’s in your dad’s jailhouse.”  
  
“Oh.  Well, let’s go, daylight is wasting!”

*****

_Jan 2, 1933_

_Jailhouse, Cairo_

 

The Cairo Jailhouse was a happening sort of spot considering its lack of amenities.  Stiles’ father had done his best to bring order and even some small benefits- like clean water- to the prisoners but even so, it was just barely a step up from a fetid sty.

Which seemed appropriate for the mess of a man inside the cell they discovered that housed one ‘Derek Hale’.  Stiles was immediately aware of angry eyebrows and incredibly pretty hazel eyes glaring up at him like Stiles’ mere existence offended him personally.  Hale clearly hadn’t seen a bath in a few weeks nor a razor in far longer given the state of his scraggly black beard and wild mat of hair.

His glare transferred from Stiles to Scott.  “I know you.  You were with that little American shit.”

“I wasn’t with Aidan!” Scott protested, brows lowering dangerously over his nose.  “And you were just as much at fault as he was for starting that fight.”  
  
Hale sneered cruelly, sitting back against the wall of his filthy cell.  “Ask me how much I care.  I doubt you’re here for him though,” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the pair.

Scott glanced at Stiles and made a shooing motion with his hand.  Stiles, for some reason, was reluctant to show off his new possession.  Which, up until recently, had been Hale’s possession.    
  
Oh well, finder’s keepers and all that.

“You’re not from around here,” Stiles ventured but Hale only tilted his head and arched both brows.  “You’re not, and you’re in jail so maybe you’ll want to answer our questions, for your own benefit.” Hale yawned, looking severely unimpressed, annoying Stiles further.  “Well I was just thinking that you might want to gain some dough from your ventures rather stay in here stinking of cheap beer and piss.”  
  
That did seem to get his attention as he shifted.  Hale didn’t seem to talk much at all with his mouth but his body language was something Stiles was quickly learning to watch.

Scott shifted nervously beside him.  “We need to hurry up,” he hissed but Stiles only moved closer to the bars.

“You’re ex-Legion, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.  Stiles had snagged the file left on his dad’s desk just to see what Hale was in for.  It didn’t matter whether or not Hale confirmed it.  “So you’ve been to a lot of places, places that aren’t easy to get to or sometimes even show up on any maps,” Stiles was trying to keep his cool even as Hale suddenly moved closer, almost nose to nose with Stiles- which was as far as the heavy looking chains allowed him to move.  Stiles held his breath, not glancing away from Hale’s penetrating gaze.

“You want to know about Hamunaptra.” He decided.

Stiles felt his heart kick up in beat, licking his lips.  “Yes.”

“No.”  
  
“What?” He demanded, brows crashing stubbornly over his nose.  “Whaddya mean _no_?”

“I am not taking you there, it’s not a place for children.  It’s not a place for anyone.”

If he could’ve, Stiles would’ve yanked Hale’s head through the bars.  He could feel the indignant flush crawling up the back of his neck, fingers tensing around the bars.  “Listen you washed up, lousy, drunken ex-mercenary-”  
  
“Stiles we have to go!” Scott tugged him away from the bars, shooting Derek a disapproving glare.  “I can hear them coming.”  
  
Stiles knew that if they got caught, his dad would get in trouble and he wasn’t willing to jeopardize his good standing just to ring Hale’s ears with everything he wanted to say to him.  He spared one last look at him and wasn’t surprised to find Hale’s bright eyes fixed on him rather than the guards.  

He could’ve also swore they flashed gold for a moment but then Scott was yanking him through the open doorway and away.  


	3. In Which Stiles Has a Plan (As Do Some Dastardly Folk)

_Jan 3, 1933  
Museum of Antiquities, Cairo_

Stiles was still fuming the next day. Hale’s deliberate stonewalling had his dander up and his instincts working overtime. What was so important for Hale to keep them out of Hamunaptra? It would make sense if he was an Egyptologist or even a treasure hunter but he didn’t seem the type. He’d read over his dad’s file on Hale and it didn’t lean that direction.

Granted a huge chunk of Hale’s past was missing. There was nothing before he joined the Legion and from there he seemed to be involved in the most dangerous excursions into the desert- several times being one of the few survivors. Not once, or twice but several times. Was it sabotage or was Hale trying to get himself killed by deliberately volunteering for the most dangerous missions? Why was he seemingly so hard to kill? 

“You have that look on your face,” Scott sighed out, looking faintly distressed. Allison had been busy all day and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to see her wandering the halls of the museum.

“What look?”

“The look that’s says we’re going to do something really unwise and possibly dangerous.”

“I forged papers to get Hale out of jail,” Stiles nodded absently, chewing on the end of his pen. 

“Of course you have already _done_ something. Why are we bothering with him? He refused to help and maybe, maybe he’s on the level,” Scott huffed, raking a hand through his dark curls. “What’s the hubbub over Hamunaptra anyways?”

He watched Scott pick up the puzzle box that was sitting out on Stiles’ desk, taunting him with its secrets. Stiles had been up half the night trying to get it open after he realized it was a puzzle box and not just decorative. Hale might actually know how to get it open and it galled him to think of that nimrod being more clever than him.

“Stiles?”

He sighed, slumping back in his uncomfortable chair and pulled off his glasses, pretending to clean them. “It’s ‘cause of my mom,” He murmured quietly, resolutely looking at nothing. Stiles didn’t have to explain about how her loss, only four years earlier, still weighed heavily on him. They’d always been close and Stiles had always wanted to follow in her footsteps.

Scott reached out and squeezed his shoulder as Stiles swiped his handkerchief over his face. The dust bothered his eyes sometimes. “She was so brilliant. I’m not half as good as she was. And she was also the one who theorized that the Book of Amun-Ra was in Hamunaptra and not lost at all. If I can do this, do this one thing, maybe I can make sure that everyone knows her name.” 

“Then we’ll find it,” Scott stated so simply that Stiles was reminded why, even when Scott was being as stubborn as mule, he adored his best friend. 

With a grin, he ruffled his hair before shoving Scott away. “I have to take some documents to the Martins but in about an hour I’ll be needing some clarification from Argent. It may take awhile. And possibly free up a certain brunette tomato for.... well, whatever people can get up to.”

Scott’s brows climbed so high and his expression was so pleased that Stiles couldn’t help but shake his head, watching the other young man dart off. It didn’t make him feel even slightly guilty that he didn’t have any paperwork to bring to the Martins- Argent had mentioned that if he found his own backer willing to fund his trip, he wouldn’t stop his research. Stiles knew of someone who had extra money to burn and an interest she failed to hide completely.

Harris had been nowhere to be seen for most of the day so there would be no one to tattle on him for slipping away in the middle of the day. It wasn’t unusual for Harris as there was a lot of prep work involved in an excursion into the deserts of Egypt. Even with their more modern supplies and instruments, it was a dangerous undertaking. He’d seen people fall victim to heat stroke and sandstorms before. 

But whatever it took, Stiles was going to find Hamunaptra.

*****

_Jan 3, 1933_  
Martin Residence, Cairo

Stiles knew that the Martins had a vast fortune not only by Egyptian standards but also by European. They had homes in London, Paris, Egypt and New York even but strangely enough, despite her protests about the dust, the heat and the lack of social circle, Lydia Martin spent more than six months of the year in Egypt (though admittedly, not consecutively).

Stiles also suspected that the jump in Mr. Martin’s output on Egyptian translations and layman’s guides to the culture and area had to do with Lydia more than Mr. Martin or any of his so-called research assistants (for some reason all incredibly beautiful and incredibly non-Egyptian). Although she was breathtakingly beautiful, it was her sharp intelligence that drew him in and made him want to show her he could understand her and support her. 

Peering up at the imposing Martin residence, with its flat roof except for the slight peak in the center, the tall thin windows and columns with tastefully discreet reliefs of Egyptian gods, Stiles stifled a nervous instinct to flee. He had never really had a moment to actually speak to Miss Martin at the museum before so perhaps showing up here out of the blue-

“May I help you?” A servant asked, looking skeptical and aloof. Jeez, even the servants were giving attitude and they didn’t even know him!

“Uh, I’m Stiles. I mean, Stiles Stilinski to see Miss Martin,” he introduced himself. The servant did not seem to improve his disposition but he did at least nod before shutting the door. Glancing back at the street teeming with masses of people, Stiles found his glance landing on a tall, honey-blonde woman in a tailored pantsuit that made him think of Marlene Dietrich. She was stalking through the streets with confident, almost predatory strides, followed by a group of burly-looking men. Actually, there were a couple he could’ve sworn he’d seen at the museum or when Stiles had helped prep for digs, like Daehler, what was his name again-

“Sir?” 

Stiles nearly fell over the edge of the stoop. He hadn’t realized he’d been leaning out so far to watch the woman and her thugs but corrected his balance before he hurt himself. 

“Miss Martin will see you in the gardens,” the servant declared in that officious way that made Stiles tug his clothes in order. He hadn’t thought to change before dashing there but it was too late now. 

The Martin house was, of course, twice as elaborate and beautiful on the inside as the outside. There were priceless artifacts and books on display that had Stiles wanting to paw at and coo (he was certain that was a Peabody-Emerson memoir he spotted back there). He almost couldn’t believe that some were real but the Martins weren’t the types to have fakes. Or if they did, they had the best fakes around that only a professional would be able to spot- which was probably a lot easier to decorate with. He did wonder if their private spaces were more warm and lived in- beautiful as the house was, it felt very stifling and imposing. He couldn’t imagine growing up in a place like it- though it did explain even more about Lydia than he thought it would.

He wasn’t surprised by the garden he was led into- lush and full of water fountains that would take a fortune to run. And in the middle of the exotic plants and flowers was the beautiful Lydia Martin sipping tea and looking like the queen she was.

Stiles gaped for a full minute before the servant cleared his throat loudly. “A Mister Stilinski, miss.”

Lydia glanced up with coolly beautiful green eyes, arching her brows. “Hmm, so I did remember your name correctly.” She seemed satisfied with that and gestured lazily for him to join her. Stiles didn’t have to be asked twice, pouncing on both the delicate chair (making it creak alarmingly) and the little sandwiches set out with the tea. Hey, he was starving!

Curling up her lip slightly as she watched him eat, Lydia brushed down her skirt. “To what reason do I owe this call? If you’re here to propose to me, I only listen to proposals every third Thursday of the month and that’s not til next week-”

Swallowing down a gulp of tea, Stiles shook his head. “No, no, no proposing! Not that I wouldn’t propose to you- when and if I had the dough to properly uh, actually that was part of why I’m here,” he pointed out.

“Money?” Lydia arched one perfect brow and he could see that if he didn’t talk fast, he was going to end up flat on his face on the sidewalk outside. She pursed her lips and sat up but before she could toss him out, Stiles was talking.

“Hamunaptra,” he blurted out and when she paused, he went on. “It’s the fabled city of the dead, lost for three thousands years, said to hold the wealth of Egypt, blah, blah, blah and just think what kind of coup it would be if you- your family was the one that financed the expedition that discovered it and all its history!” He waved a hand expressively. “Your names would be remembered forever and the respect your- uh _father’s_ translations would receive...”

Lydia let a delicate white finger curl in her hair, eyes fixed on Stiles’ face as he twitched in front of her. “And what makes you think you know how to get there better than anyone else who’s tried, failed and lost other people’s good money?”

He had to play this carefully, licking his lips. “Well, I have someone that’s been there before.”

“Oh? Why isn’t he here begging favor?” Lydia demanded, and really most people would easily drop everything to beg her favor. Stiles certainly would but he doubted Hale knew how to beg, much less do it in a Martin-approved fashion.

“Uh, he’s indisposed?”

Glancing down at her nails, Lydia shrugged. “Then come back with him when he’s not. If I’m not a priority in his schedule, then he’s certainly not going to be a priority in mine nor will a penny of Daddy’s money fund anything,” she declared.

Stiles winced and twisted his fingers together. “I’m sure he’d be over the moon to come and see you,” he lied with a smile. “But the truth is-”

“Please don’t tell me he’s caught a cold, it’s boring and beneath both of us.”

“He’s in jail,” he blurted and covered his mouth. At her startled look- which he had to say was a new one- he pressed on. “He was there! He has an actual artifact from Hamunaptra! I saw it and confirmed it myself! And if you could just find the scratch to fund the expedition I just know I could make it there, it’s out there, it’s real and I have to find it so I can find the Book of Amun-Ra and show the whole world that it ain’t baloney.” His pleading tone seemed to be working for just a moment before she sighed.

“I’m sorry, Stiles, but there’s not enough to go on. You want me to fund you, Scott no doubt, and an ex-con to go trotting out into the desert to find a city no one else has ever seen except somehow this mystery man has and can take you back to it? I can’t risk Daddy’s money like that. No one would,” She sighed, setting her cold tea aside.

Stiles was quiet for a long moment, listening to the sound of the water bubbling up in the fountain and the breeze rustling through the trees. “Do you know what it says about the discovery of King Tutankhamen's tomb back in ‘22?” He didn’t wait for her response before he plowed on. “That George Herbert, 5th Earl of Carnarvon was the man who did it. They didn’t even pay lipservice to the fact my mom was there, much less the fact she was the one, not him, who actually found it. She got written off and then died and no one knows how wonderful she was.”

Her face went through a complicated flashes of emotion that he’d never seen before but always suspected were there. If anyone would understand-

She opened her mouth and Stiles held his breath. “You really think that this...”

“Hale. Derek Hale. Formerly of the French Foreign Legion.”

“Right. You really think that he can guide you to the actual Hamunaptra where you will be able to discover the location of the Book of Amun-Ra and thereby immortalize your name.”

“My mom’s name. But yes, I do,” Stiles nodded his head, trying not to grab at her hands. “All I need is funds to book passage on the boat and for supplies and some camels. Just the basics. I don’t have to have a whole team because I can bring back the book and the curator will _have_ to listen to me and we can go back with the whole museum behind us, or even the British Museum if we get good press, right?” 

She tapped her finger against her bottom lip but he could already see the calculating going on behind her eyes. “The press is a must and you will leave that entirely to me. Now, Daddy is out of the country at the moment,” she snorted when Stiles’ face fell. “Oh don’t worry, I may not have access to _his_ funds but Daddy leaves me with an allowance.” 

“Are you sure an allowance will cover everything?” Stiles asked, brows knitting together skeptically as Lydia guided him out of the garden and back to the waiting butler. 

“More than your paltry salary at the museum certainly could,” She dismissed. “Now, go away, I’m done with you for today.”

“But not forever?” He couldn’t help himself, grinning wider as Lydia snorted delicately.

“Good afternoon, Mister Stilinski.”

He contained his delighted whoop until he was safely outside the house.

****

_Jan 3, 1933_  
Museum of Antiquities Stockroom, Cairo

Allison was thrilled when Scott found her to see if she’d like to join him for lunch. She had never met anyone so genuine and kind before, someone who was honestly good. When he brought her to the replica room of what a pharaoh’s private chamber might look like, she couldn’t help but be charmed by his thoughtfulness. It was fun sitting on a ‘blanket’ (a dust cover) and eating out of a box of items Scott had obviously procured from the market place.

“So you and Scott have been in Egypt all your lives?” She asked softly, biting into an olive and placing its pit delicately in her napkin.

“Yes, mostly. I mean, Stiles was born in England somewhere and I came over with my parents when I was... three I think? Mom wanted to come home. I don’t remember any place else, though Stiles’ dad sometimes makes him go back to England where his mom’s family are just so he can get ‘civilized’,” Scott wrinkled his nose, smiling.

Allison could well imagine how that went over. 

“Do you want to be civilized?” She asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Scott bit his lip and stared out over the artifacts and the replicas. With a bashful smile, he shook his head. “I love this place. I love being here and I don’t think there’s anywhere in the world that could be as beautiful. Especially right now.” He held her eyes, genuine and sweet.

Allison reached out and covered his hand with hers, smile widening when Scott turned his palm over to lace their fingers together. “So you and Stiles always have things in the works, don’t you? Planning and trying to figure out ways to get farther ahead of where you are now?”

Scott chuckled and shook his head. “Stiles is the clever one, the one with the ideas. I’m gonna go out there with him. I don’t know all the history and stuff but... I’m good at hauling and digging in the dirt. I’ve gone on a couple digs before and Stiles, well he’s chewed my ears off so much that I guess I kinda learned what to look for by osmosis or something,” he shrugged, fingers still twisting and twisting the puzzle box in his hands, nervous under Allison’s gaze. Then the box simply clicked open.

“Oh!” Allison blinked, just as startled as Scott and plucked the extremely thin and delicate parchment out of the middle of the box. Unfolding it revealed an ancient-looking map.

“Oh! Stiles is going to have kittens when he sees this!” Scott grinned widely, fingers delicately brushing the painted figures and the cartouches that littered the paper. Allison was equally intrigued by it, her expression pensive.

“Why don’t we take this to my father? That way we don’t necessarily get Stiles’ hopes up in case it’s nothing,” she offered, slipping the map out of his fingers.

“It couldn’t be _nothing_ to Stiles, but at least this way we’ll know if it’s a map to Hamunaptra!”

“How do you know that?” Allison demanded, brows coming down sharply over her nose, fingers abruptly tightening at her side. “We should go see my father. Now.”

Allison took his hand and dragged him through the museum- rather strongly for a young lady- until she burst into her father’s office. His brows rose wordlessly then narrowed sharply when he spotted their clasped hands.

“Allison-” He growled out.

“Scott’s found a map to Hamunaptra,” she blurted out, glancing back at Scott. When he shot her a look, she winced and mouthed a ‘sorry’ at him. Argent didn’t appear any less homicidal unfortunately. 

Scott looked sheepish. “Well, I did say I know how to find things but this... well, I didn’t exactly find. There was a man that got into a fight with Aidan and it fell out of his pocket. He claimed he was at Hamunaptra.”

She nodded, giving him a smile as she looped her arm around his, making Scott’s chest puff up. “Well, drunks will often tell big stories even, just to make themselves look bigger and more capable than they are. Maybe he was just making up the map to take advantage of the tourists.” 

“May I see it?” Argent asked through gritted teeth, clearly not used to being polite with Scott. He hesitated but if anyone could tell, it would be the curator. Pulling it out, he delicately spread it over his desk. Argent’s frown deepened but that didn’t mean much with him. He tended to frown at everything that wasn’t Allison. “Well, I would like to keep this for further examination. To verify that it is what you think it is and not some hoax.”

“Oh,” Scott nodded, shoulders slumping slightly. Allison squeeze his hand comfortingly in response. “I’d hate to get Stiles’ hopes up without proof.”

“Exactly. Hamunaptra has sat undisturbed for this long, I think it can wait a few more days,” Argent pointed out dryly. “Now there are some crates that can’t wait that long.” 

“Yes sir, thank you,” Scott sent Allison one last hopeful look before he disappeared out of the office. Allison watched her dad’s face thoughtfully as he examined the map more closely.

“It’s real isn’t it.” 

He sighed and ran his hand over his slightly scruffy face. “I thought we’d rounded up the last clues but... apparently not. This map? It belonged to an Anubis-kin.” He pointed to an odd spiral shape with three curling lines leading inwards in the upper right corner of the map. “Here is their seal. A triple coil hieroglyph which isn’t the usual. It’s indicating a specific pack actually.”

“Which pack?”

Chris’ eyes darted off for a split second. “I don’t know.”

Allison held her breath. “You don’t think they are any still around, do you? Actual Anubis-kin, the ones that were gifted abilities beyond mortal men, the claws and teeth of animals, strength and speed-”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it. It’s their fault that we’re stuck defending their secrets from the rest of the world-” 

“Argent!” Harris burst through the door, apoplectic and red-faced. Very casually, Argent slipped papers over top of the map, covering it from view. “What is this about Martin never coming through with the money! I have planned this expedition for _months_ and you send me a note that the monies haven’t come through _days_ before I’m supposed to head out?! You’re a disgrace to your position, you-”

“ _Enough!_ ” Argent barked, staring down Harris as he slowly stood up. Jabbing a finger at the younger man, he went on, “You were told that this expedition was a risk a long time ago and you still persisted against mine and Deaton’s advice. _You_ were the one who simpered after Martin’s money and if it didn’t come through, you have only yourself to blame for that. Without the money, you aren’t going to take my workers into the desert to get killed. Do I make myself clear?” He barked out.

Harris’ lips trembled and Allison could see hate boiling in his normally cold eyes. “This isn’t over.” 

“As far as I’m concerned, it is,” Argent dismissed, sitting back down, nodding at the door for Harris to let himself out. He sucked in another breath and stormed out, slamming the door hard enough that he knocked several plaques off the wall as well as a picture of Allison’s mother. 

Allison picked up the photo as Argent slipped the map out of its hiding place. He held up it to the lamp on his desk, close enough that it caught on fire. Allison breathed in sharply and bit her tongue hard. 

“Are you sure that’s the best way to handle this? People are still going to go out looking for Hamunaptra. Even Kate-”

“Don’t talk to me about Kate,” Argent snapped, making her thin out her lips. He softened and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “My sister has... particular ideas about how to handle curses and threats. She believes in confronting them head on.”

“That sounds reasonable enough to me,” Allison said with a shrug. “We could go there and sink it into the sand. With someone like Stiles’ help we could figure out the mechanism.”

Argent arched his brows. “And do you really think someone like Stiles would be willing to see such a treasure trove of history lost to time?” He shook his head. “Without a doubt, Mister Stilinski means well but this is simply too risky. If a pack of Anubis-kin cannot keep its location a secret then it’s up to us to pick up the slack.”

Allison frowned pensively, glancing up at her father. Hadn’t he just said that there weren’t any Anubis-kin left? Then how could they keep their location a secret? She wondered if she should mention the puzzle box to her father. But what good would that do to take that away from Stiles as well? It was just a box. What harm ever came from opening a box?

*****

_Jan 3, 1933_  
local bar, Cairo

Adrian Harris was a man with _ambition_. He didn’t get into the world of Egyptology because he had a love for it. There was money to be made if one had the drive and the access to these ancient treasures. And Adrian was going to find a way to make that mark on the world even if it killed him to do it. Chris Argent did not appreciate anything but his own hide-bound ideology. Refusing to allow Adrian to venture out into the field was galling. Who the hell did he think he was? A former soldier assigned to the area. It didn’t mean he knew more than Adrian did. It didn’t mean that he was _better_ than Adrian.

Staring moodily into his scotch glass, the Egyptologist almost didn’t notice the woman until she was next to him, smelling of fire and smoke and some sort of flower. Her red lips were pursed around a cigarillo.

“Got a light?” Her eyes held him, a teasing expression on her face as Adrian swallowed hard. All his life women like this one had ignored him, laughed at him and now one was coming right up to him? It made no sense but he didn’t care. All he could do was fumble out a box of matches and strike one for her. He was mesmerized by the sheer act of watching her puff on the small cigar.

“You’re Adrian Harris, the Head Egyptologist at the Museum of Antiquities, aren’t you?” Her lips quirked up into a ready smile, one that seemed to laugh at everyone and everything it encountered. She offered him her hand, giving him a strong handshake that nearly squeezed the life out of his fingers. “I’m Katherine Argent, Kate.”

“Oh,” Adrian’s face must’ve shown his distaste for the Argent name because she clucked at him, slipping her arm around his.

“Aww don’t be like that sweetie, I’m not like my stick-in-the-mud brother, I promise.” 

She guided him forcibly away from the bar proper through the smoky, sweet haze of the main floor. Her strong, lean body pressed up against his side and quieted his protests if he’d thought to actually voice them. An older man sat at a table in the back with hard eyes, observing them. “And neither is my father. Adrian, this is Gerard.”

He was pushed into a chair, though the forceful gesture quickly morphed into Kate’s fingers trailing down the side of his neck in a distracting manner. “You have quite the reputation as well, but I’m a little confused what a big-game hunter would need from me,” Adrian asked after a moment, taking off his glasses to clean, glancing at Kate. She caught him and winked as she joined them, legs sprawled in a very indecent way, despite the trousers.

Gerard gave an affable smile, spreading his hands. “Nothing to do with that my boy, nothing at all. You see, my children come across their interest in history naturally,” he gestured at himself with a wrinkled but steady hand. “I’ve had an abiding interest in Egypt for... years now.”

“That must make for ease of dinner conversations at holidays,” Adrian replied, wondering where they were going with this. Kate flashed him another smile as she leaned in, golden-brown waves gently falling around her face.

“It does in fact, at our comfortable home back in England. But you don’t have anything like that, do you Adrian?” She made a soft clucking noise in her throat as Adrian tensed up. Her fingers reached across the table and stroked over the back of his hand. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and neither is your desire to change your circumstances.”

“And yet, my attempt to do so was thwarted by your brother,” he pointed out, sitting back. “Do you mean to rectify his mistake?” 

“We want to come to an understanding, Doctor Harris,” Gerard replied, giving him a nod of encouragement. “We will finace your expedition outside of the museum to avoid the problem of my son neatly. We will supply you workers, tools, guards, all necessary provisions. Whatever is uncovered, should there be anything of value at Hamunaptra, will be parsed out with 45% to us, 40% to you and the rest sold to cover supplies and manpower. I’m sure my son’s wrath will be mitigated by with what you bring back. Should you choose to continue on at the museum. Is that a fair deal?”

Adrian licked his lips, feeling excitement crawling up his throat. It was more than generous; it was the chance of a lifetime. Gerard clearly didn’t know the first thing about how much an expedition cost nor how to handle distributing the finds. More power to Adrian then at that, he could easily manipulate the circumstances once he was out there in Hamunaptra.

“Why such a reasonable bargain?” He demanded in spite of the way his fingers twitched in anticipation. “I’m not stupid, nor am I inclined to believe you are either. So tell me what you want before I get bored.”

Gerard’s eyes narrowed sharply and for the first time since Adrian sat down at their table, he felt what it must be like to be under the hunter’s scope. “You are quite the... blunt character aren’t you?”

“I’m still waiting.” 

“There’s a book that we want,” Kate cut in, leaning back in closer to Adrian. “Just a book.”

Adrian was not fooled by her casual demeanor, nor her looks. “The Book of Amun-Ra, yes-”

Kate laughed, leaning in to tap the end of his nose, eyes bright and yet very sharp. “No. Not that one, doc. We want the Book of the Dead,” Her smile grew wider and sharper.

“But it’s worthless compared to what Hamunaptra is likely to contain, especially for a layman like yourself,” Adrian frowned, gesturing with one hand as he glanced at Gerard. He wasn’t contradicting his daughter. “It’s not even covered in gold like the Book of Amun-Ra supposedly is, so display isn’t likely to impress much of anyone.”

“Ah but knowledge is its own reward, isn’t it?” Gerard pointed out, tone encouraging Adrian to humor the old man. 

If that’s what he wanted, fine by him. Gerard could keep his ‘knowledge’- if he could even translate the book. Adrian was going to make a mint off this dig with all the trinkets and gold he would uncover and sell off. Gerard cleared his throat, forcing his attention back on the hunter. “In that case, you have a deal, I’ll lead your expedition for you to Hamunaptra within the week,” Adrian offered up.

“Actually you’ll be heading out in two days’ time. Sorry for the short notice, sweetie, but them’s the breaks!” Kate stood up and grabbed her coat as well as her father’s. Gerard paused in putting on his coat to pin the Egyptologist with another look.

“Oh, one more thing, Mr. Harris. If you should come across any mummies in your excavation, we will want to examine them first.”

“What-” 

“Sometimes it’s better not to ask questions, my boy,” Gerard replied. The smile he gave him was meant to be friendly but it reminded Adrian of the fact Gerard was a hunter and spent his entire life killing terrifying animals.

Adrian swallowed but found himself nodding along. “Fine by me.”


	4. In Which An Expedition Sets Forth

_Jan 4, 1933  
Martin Resident, Cairo_

Lydia Martin was somewhat taken aback when her butler brought in her dear friend Allison and Allison’s beloved Aunt. Not that she wasn’t expecting them, she simply hadn’t expected them to be arguing in low, urgent tones. Allison was definitely more upset than Kate was, who seemed to be ignoring whatever reservations Allison had and that Lydia did not approve of. Allison was her best friend and Lydia simply would not tolerate a companion that wasn’t sensible. To dismiss her concerns, favorite aunt or not, was not going to continue while Lydia was around.

Pasting a smile on her lips, she took Allison’s hands. “Allison, I’m glad you and your aunt were able to come.” She then turned her attention to the tall woman at Allison’s side. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Kate.” 

Lydia’s mouth twitched as she took in the sleek trousers and custom-fitted suit though she didn’t let the radical clothes prevent her from performing her duties as a hostess. 

“Likewise. Nice set-up here.”

Lydia rattled off the memorized speech about the architecture, the fountains, how her father had paid a hefty price for such comforts. Allison had heard it before and her smile grew more affectionate when Lydia guided their tour through the library. It was truly Lydia’s domain, though she kept that sort of thing behind closed doors. Lydia might be a blue-stocking in thought but she wasn’t prepared to flaunt it in deed.

Allison understood that- she too had learned how to walk the fine line between sweet affability and knowing exactly what one was capable of. Lydia had long suspected that Allison’s capabilities were more than what she’d admitted to her friend. Considering how secretive and suspicious her family was, she couldn’t blame Allison entirely. 

Kate, by contrast, was defiantly open about herself. Or at least it seemed that way at first as she recounted her travels around the world with her father looking for likely game and then the shocking reminiscence about her torrid affair with a local the last time she’d been in Egypt. “-such a pretty little puppy. I had him begging out of my hand by the end,” Kate laughed affectionately and didn’t seem bothered by the uncomfortable smile Allison had pasted on her face.

Lydia smiled serenely as she guided them into the pavilion for tea. “So you like to hunt for all kinds of game. I mean... you did describe him as young, sleek and fresh. I’d’ve thought you were describing a buck rather than a man.”

Kate’s eyes flicked over to her but her smile only grew sharper, more privately amused.  
“Oh it’s not like I mounted him.” She paused. “On my wall.”

Allison cleared her throat, going bright red and even Lydia glanced down to the tea she was serving.

Kate let out a peal of laughter. “Oh come on girls, it’s just us here. We can be on the level, can’t we?”

“You’ll have to forgive Kate, she sometimes forgets the difference between honest and _shameless,_ ” Allison’s lips quirked up sardonically but she seemed more relaxed than when they first arrived.

Kate merely laughed, pulling out a slim cigarette case. “Don’t let Allison fool you for a moment. I’ve seen the handsome young Mister McCall and I don’t think she’s solely after his _heart,_ ” Kate teased, waggling her brows as Allison made an affronted noise. Turning her attention back to Lydia, she went on, “And what about you? Allison mentioned Dr. Harris was interested. Are you going to let him roll you?”

“Certainly not,” Lydia dismissed the notion with a soft snort. “I wouldn’t let Jackson Whittemore while I was in Paris and Harris hasn’t nearly the clout, the fortune or the youthful vigor that Jackson does,” she pointed out, primly setting her teacup on its saucer. “It’ll take something truly unique to convince me to entangle myself.”

“Huh. I like you,” Kate declared. “Besides, you don’t want an old man. You want to get them young, train them up until they know exactly how to please.”

Before Lydia could reply to that statement, her butler appeared at the doorway, catching her eye unobtrusively. “Yes, Henry?”

“Miss Martin, there is a... manservant requesting to speak to the elder Miss Argent,” he announced. With a brief glance towards Kate, she waved the man in.

As soon as she saw him, she wished she hadn’t. He was swathed in flowing black robes, not unlike the natives but something about his particular appearance made her think more of Death than anything else. His head was also draped with the dark fabric, covering all of his face save his mouth. Lydia could feel the cold stare of his eyes on her regardless. She felt abruptly suffocated, like she couldn’t breathe, that a scream was clawing its way out of her throat.

The sound of china breaking jerked her attention back- finding her cup had slipped out of her nerveless fingers.

“Lydia?” Allison gently laid a hand on her wrist, a concerned look flashing over her features.

“It’s alright. I just... I felt like someone had walked over my grave,” she waved off the concern with a flash of a smile.

“Graves are never to be trod upon, least of all lightly,” the man spoke up, lifting his head just enough she could see the quirk of his lips and a clefted chin.

“Dead is dead,” Kate dismissed with a cold look to her eyes. “I’m much more interested in the here and now.”

Lydia caught the flash of a shipping manifest that Peter had handed off to Kate. “If that’s so, why are you sending off an expedition?” she inquired sweetly.

Allison seemed startled. “You’ve never expressed any interest in Dad’s work. Are you helping out?”

Kate shrugged, lighting her cigarillo and blew smoke in the man’s face. Lydia watched his hand spasm and then secreted itself under his sleeve. Kate didn’t even notice. “You can go,” Kate ordered. When he did, she went on. “Dad was interested in one of the dig sites that your pop wasn’t keen on. He asked me to keep an eye on it.”

“What? You don’t mean-”

“Hamunaptra,” Lydia broke in. 

Kate’s eyes snapped to her and she felt pinned for a second before the older woman grinned. “As smart as you are pretty,” she cooed. “Harris tends to blab, huh?”

“Yes and no,” Lydia demurred, accepting the new teacup from Henry before he discreetly let himself back out. “I have some interest in it too,” she went on, as casually as Kate, gently placing sugar cubes in her cup.

“What? You didn’t mention anything to me,” Allison sounded betrayed and Lydia felt a little bit guilty, shooting the brunette a look. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t tell me _Stiles_ got to you! He’s been hounding my dad for nearly a year to go out on a dig and now he picks the most dangerous one he can?”

“He has sound theories, against all evidence to the contrary,” Lydia replied, bribing Allison’s forgiveness deliberately by passing her another cookie. Allison was not dissuaded however.

“Neither of you shouldn’t be doing this!” she declared. “Did either of you even think to guard against grave robbers and thieves and, and- just plain attacks? There are - tribes out there,” she huffed out.

Kate laughed, patting Allison’s hand. “You sound so much like your dad. Unlike Miss Martin, I do have experience, remember?”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed and she flashed a smile. “Experience hasn’t yet brought anyone any closer to Hamunaptra. Maybe _fresh_ eyes are needed.”

The other woman’s smile grew sharper. “Are you suggesting a wager? Just for fun,” she wrinkled her nose as Allison threw up her hands.

“I give up,” she muttered as Lydia deliberately took a sip of her tea and replaced it on the saucer with precise grace.

“A lady doesn’t make bets.” She paused and shot Kate a look. “She never has a need to.”

“Then you won’t have any worry if we both put up say, $500 bucks?” That was more than Lydia’s monthly allowances and no matter how creatively she handled the household expenses, her father would notice if it was gone. Still she couldn’t back down now, not when she had a hunch Stiles really had something.

“Of course not.”

****

_Jan 5, 1933_  
the Port, Giza

The port at Giza sat along the Nile river, giving it one of the prettiest views in Egypt (or at least in the civilized areas). The Pyramids were easy to spot when the sky was a clear and cloudless blue. The port was always humming with activity, merchants and travelers but Stiles couldn’t be bothered to pay an ounce of attention to any of that. His only focus was the steamer ship destined to carry him, Scott and Hale down the river to Hamunaptra. 

“Are you sure you want him along? He was being held down by six guards when you went to deliver the papers to free him,” Scott pointed out, though he was peering excitedly at the steamer ship that was to carry them upriver to their destination. Stiles could understand the excitement because he felt it too. And no one was going to ruin that for him.

“He’s just some scruffy-looking ex-soldier whom I don’t trust in the slightest-”

“Who’s scruffy looking?” Hale’s voice was nearly directly behind Stiles’ ear causing him to jump, which he no doubt did on purpose because Hale was an ass. Stiles turned to berate him for it but quite suddenly his voice refused to work. 

“Hey, you shaved! You look human,” Scott praised and Stiles felt the urge to mumble something about understatement. Hale was possibly one of the most attractive people he’d ever laid eyes on, including the esteemed Miss Martin. His dark hair was shorn short now, combed and slicked back away from his face. Good lord that face- Stiles couldn’t process the combination of such high cheekbones, beautiful eyes and a jawline straight from Greek statuary. 

“Well he can pass for one anyways,” Stiles managed a beat too late, clearing his throat.  
Hale’s lips twitched briefly in amusement before they fixed on their boat. “Last chance. Give me the box and we’ll part ways here,” he demanded, turning to face Stiles head on.

It was a little different seeing him out in the sunlight and not behind bars. That was the only reason his heart jumped. Nothing else. “Not a chance. We have a deal.”

“Stilinski, you don’t want to go there! Just give me back the box!” Hale thrust out an imperious hand, broad and probably capable of denting Stiles’ skull. Not that he wanted to think about all the ways Hale could horribly murder him. Instead he opted for changing tactics. 

“Why?”

Hale seemed stymied by the question and his mouth twisted up like he was sucking on a lemon. Stiles took great pleasure in that for a brief moment. “Because it’s mine.”

It was like pulling teeth to get him to admit to anything but Stiles couldn’t help but push more. “It’s over 3,000 years old, how did you come across it? Was it just sitting in the sand waiting for you to pick it up?”

“No!”

“So?”

“I don’t know! I don’t remember, all I know is that that box is the only link I have to my past and I want it back,” he bared his teeth and Stiles could swear for a moment they seemed sharper than before. But he did what he always did when confronted with aggressive types- doubled down.

“Then. Take. Me. To. Hamunaptra,” he enunciated each word, leaning in to do so. 

“Fellas?” Scott prompted. Stiles blinked as he realized he’d stepped further into Hale’s space, nearly nose to nose with the other man. “The steamer’s gonna leave without us if we don’t get on now.”

Hale huffed through his nose in a strangely animal fashion before he hauled most of the bags over his shoulders. Like, the ones carrying the equipment that had taken both him and Scott to pick up. Stiles stared up after him, watching his steady, easy gait up the gangplank.

“Stiles?” Scott touched his shoulder, giving him a look. “Are you sure about this?”

“What? Of course! This is it, this is the chance I’ve been waiting for!” Stiles assured him, grinning brightly. “So what if we have to work with a dangerous, possibly mentally unsound convict with no past! Scott... when have I ever been wrong about this kind of thing?” Stiles arched his brows, flopping a hand out when Scott took too long to think about it. “Look, we have him lead us out there and he only gets his box back after we make it home, safe and sound. He can’t murder us in our sleep! I’ve got it all covered, trust me.”

Stiles might have implied to Hale that he had hidden the box somewhere in Cairo but he’d been too curious to do so. He wanted to really examine it, see if he could find out anything else about it or if it had any other secret compartments. Hence why it was riding along in his bag on his hip.

Before Scott could speak the loud foghorn sounded. “Hey that’s our cue, c’mon!”

****

_Jan 8, 1933_  
Nile River, Egypt

Three days into their trip, Derek wasn’t entirely sure why he agreed to go on this madcap expedition. He didn’t trust McCall or Stilinski (albeit he didn’t trust much of anyone). And he certainly didn’t think that the skinny librarian was really keen on giving up Derek’s puzzlebox now that he had his fingers on it. Sometimes things needed to stay buried and gone and someone like Stilinski couldn’t accept that. It was irritating.

Not as irritating as the fact they apparently had rivals aboard the ship, a man named Harris and his expedition, leaving it much more cramped than ever before. Derek hated the small spaces boats provided in general and having to avoid specific people left him in an even worse mood. The twins on Harris’ expedition, Aidan and Ethan, were deliberately trying to get to him, provoke a fight. They knew that Derek wasn’t going to bite at that but they still did it.

He didn’t know what spawned the rivalry- and didn’t care- but he hadn’t expected to overhear Scott babbling about their intended destination while (surprisingly) cleaning up at poker with Matt, Ethan and Aidan. 

Derek narrowed his eyes at the foursome. “You’re going to Hamunaptra?”

“Yeah, same as you,” Matt flashed him a smarmy grin as he fiddled with his heavy-looking camera. Apparently he wanted to document as much of their travels as possible. 

“Who said we are?” he asked, though he had a sinking feeling-

“He did,” the three chorused, pointing directly at McCall. Derek felt the vein start to throb at his temple and honestly wondered who was more of a menace- McCall or Stilinski.

“So how ‘bout that wager, Hale?” He was fairly certain that was Aidan challenging him but Derek only stared him down silently.

“Yeah, we’ll take it,” McCall piped up, smirking. 

“What makes you so confident, Mister McCall? Going along with mummy and daddy on a dig when you’re a child is a far cry different than actually taking responsibility for your own. Not to mention being able to actually get there,” Harris piped up from the nearby doorway to the cabins. Derek had to contain his smirk seeing how green and pale the other man was. He had hardly come out of his cabin through the trip (making Stilinski irritatingly cheerful at the news). 

“Yeah? Well what makes you think you can get there yourselves?” McCall might be annoying but he had a point, Derek flicked his gaze over the assembled group.

“We have someone that’s actually been there,” Ethan smirked in a satisfied manner, toying with a small knife, digging it into the tabletop.

“Well so d-” Derek turned quickly and smacked McCall with his duffel. He knew it hurt because he kept his weapons in it, satisfied when Scott winced and pouted up at him. Message received even if it wasn’t appreciated. He barely flickered his eyes at the table before he was moving further along the bow of the ship.

When he spotted Stilinski sitting by himself far away from the others, Derek had to admit to some surprise. Though with the six books spread across the table he was hunched over, maybe it wasn’t. Derek took a moment to contemplate his unwilling benefactor. 

Stilinski was a mess of contradictions. He was a gofer or something at a museum but he could walk into the dregs of the Cairo jailhouse with no fear and no qualms about staring down Derek. He’d made grown men piss themselves with the looks he’d shot them but with Stilinski all it seemed to do was make the younger man that much more determined to stand his ground. 

His eyes tracked the movement of long, skilled fingers as they flipped through the pages of his books, eventually watching Stilinski chew viciously on his bottom lip. Who was this kid? Why was he so determined to do this?

****

“That’s Banebdjedet not Osiris.”

Stiles nearly rocketed himself out of his already wobbly deck chair, sending his translation papers flying across the tabletop. “Jesus Christ! Don’t do that!” he huffed out, watching Hale glide around the table and plop himself across from Stiles like he hadn’t just scared the life out of him. He was already rolling out his pack of guns and weapons prompting Stiles to sneer out, “And you happen to know hieroglyphics?”

Hale shrugged and began disassembling his guns to clean them. Stiles had to admit, watching him, that he knew what he was doing. His hands moved confidently over the pieces just like Stiles’ dad did. He could actually recognize several of the guns Hale kept on him, an Enfield 2, a Browning Hi-power, and of course a Colt 1911.

When Hale pulled the trigger guard out of his fingers with a glare, Stiles glared right back, getting his papers back in order. “What else do you know?”

“Enough.” 

Oh did he think that was going to deter Stiles any? Ha. Picking up the firing pin that he’d need next to reassemble the Springfield rifle, he went on. “Did you learn when you were in the Legion? When did you join?”

“A few years ago,” Hale wasn’t giving up, Stiles could admire that resolve almost as much as he could admire the way Hale’s fingers smoothed over the barrel. 

Clearing his throat, Stiles picked up one of his books to page through it. “What about before then?”

Hale gave him a look and said nothing, merely spun the cylinder of the six shooter before snapping it back in place. In the moonlight glinting on the water, his stupidly handsome face was carved in blues, fighting with the orange from the gas lamps lining the walls.

Narrowing his eyes, Stiles snorted. “Right. You _really_ don’t remember anything from your past?” 

“I remember how much I dislike nosy people.”

“Ha!” Stiles slapped his book shut and got up, refusing to involve himself in a conversation with Hale anymore. He’d find Scott and-

“Let me ask _you_ a question,” Hale piped up, pinning Stiles in place with his eerie pale eyes. “What do you think you’re going to find at Hamunaptra? Gold? Fame? Respect? Well you’re not. You’ll most likely end up like everyone else who tries to find it- dead in the desert with birds plucking your eyes out.”

“Actually I won’t. We have you, you’ll get us there,” Stiles waved him off with a hand, though the serious expression on Hale’s face... no, he was doing this, it was too late not to see it through.

Hale shook his head, snorting like he was exasperated. “Getting there isn’t the problem, Stilinski. Yes, I was there. All we found was sand and blood.”

“See, that’s my job. Don’t sweat, I’ll make sure to warn you if we are in danger from any curses,” he joked but Hale bared his teeth at him, making Stiles take a step back when the other man stood up.

“Everyone in my garrison is _dead_ except for me! What does that tell you? Look, what I do remember is being cornered by four men on horseback, their guns all pointed straight at my heart. I should’ve died.”

Stiles swallowed thickly. “But you didn’t.”

Hale calmed a little and stopped backing Stiles into a corner of the deck where crates had been piled up. “Because when I took refuge behind a statue, a statue of some dog-faced god-”

“Anubis-”

Hale shot him a glare. “-the sand beneath their horses opened up like a gaping maw and devoured two of the men before the others fled.”

Stiles frowned. There had to be a reason for it. Probably something like a... unknown air pocket under the sand. Hale clearly felt there was something else at play but everyone had their faults. “How did you escape?” He asked out of simple curiosity.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember much after that.” Hale’s face clouded over, clearly not liking the gaps in his memory. 

Stiles was quiet for a long moment, trying to find a way to explain himself that wouldn’t set off another argument. “I don’t believe in fairy tales and hookum, Mister Hale,” he decided on finally, meeting his gaze without wavering. “My mom knew that this place existed and she knew that it was the location of the Book of Amun-Ra. I am going to make sure that everyone in the world knows she’s right.”

Hale didn’t say anything to that confession so Stiles simply thinned out his lips, wondering- “You should.”

“Should what?”

“Believe. They’ll still eat you even if you don’t believe in them.” Hale still had him pinned in the corner of the crates and the cabin wall, his body radiating heat and strength. He looked like he was on a tight leash for some reason and Stiles’ blood thundered in his ears. Hale shifted, somehow pressing closer, making Stiles’ mouth part on a protest that didn’t actually make it past his lips.

But for all that, it wasn’t nearly as captivating as Hale’s eyes. They tended to change color depending on the lighting (or possibly his mood) but now they looked gold in the gaslamp light. Actually they seemed to be reflecting it quite a lot considering how far away it was-

Abruptly Hale jerked his head to the right and scowled ferociously. “Stay here.” 

Stiles reeled for a moment before the words caught his attention and he scowled. “Excuse me? I’m not a dog!” 

Hale, of course, ignored him and stalked off after something. That something turned out to be Harris’ new creepy servant, the one that dressed in long flowing robes that hung over his face covering everything but his mouth. What little could be seen of his face, it was heavily scarred on one side.

“I know you,” Hale rumbled out, looking perplexed rather than angry or smug. 

“Yes.” There was a little twitch of the man’s lips upwards. 

“You were there. At Hamunaptra.”

“Is that all you remember?” Stiles could swear the man sounded... disappointed? Disapproving maybe. What did that mean?

Hale seemed to come to the same thought and frowned. He reached up and rubbed at the back of his head. “No. You saved my life. You were in that last fight, when everyone else was being devoured by that- by _something_ \- you dragged me out of there.”

“And you never said thank you. Such poor manners, Derek. Your mother would be aghast,” He tutted. 

“Peter?” Hale groaned heavily, tearing Stiles’ attention away from the mad gleam in (apparently) Peter’s eyes. 

The smile on his face growing wider as Peter lifted his head high enough that the light fell across it fully. Stiles could see that he had been a handsome man at one time, before the scars that covered half his face. He had piercing blue eyes and sharp, angular features that were strongly reminiscent of Hale. His eyes flicked to Stiles and he smirked more viciously.

Hale looked like his head was killing him and Stiles finally scrambled from his hiding place to go to the other man. Tugging on his arm, Stiles tried for his attention. “I think you should sit down-”

“I told you to stay put!”

“And I told _you_ -” The words were lost in an explosion of fire and screams. The boat rocked dangerously, sending both men into a nearby wall. When Stiles managed to untangle himself from Hale, Peter was gone. 

“What happened to-”

“Get down!” Hale barked, pushing Stiles behind him, claws (actual claws!) pushing out from his fingers as he growled, the sound low and deep. Stiles finally spotted what Hale had- their boat was being boarded by black robed figures. One of the attackers took them as a threat and flung a knife straight for Hale’s face. Instead of doing something normal- like duck- Hale _caught_ the knife and threw it right back at the man. He dropped like a stone with the knife’s handle sticking out of his chest.

“Oh my god.”

“Come on!” Hale snatched Stiles by the back of his shirt and hauled him away, shoving his way around panicked passengers. The boat was on fire and it was going to go up quickly-

“My books!” Stiles howled, scrambled back towards them heedlessly. He ran into one of the attackers, surprising both of them. The man lunged for him but Stiles ducked, falling over and accidentally tripping him and sending him over the edge of the railing. “Huh. Oops?”

He could hear Hale behind him, snarling as he fended off two men with swords with his bare hands. Stiles needed to stop and think for a minute, not go off in several different directions at once. Miraculously Hale’s gun kit was still intact when Stiles lunged for it, saving it from being crushed under a section of the canopy caving in on them. He mourned his books for a long moment before he plucked out the Enfield to aim back towards Hale and his now three attackers. 

Taking a breath, he aimed and fired. He winged one of the men, making him stagger back. Hale turned to see where the bullet had come from and Stiles nearly dropped the gun in his astonishment. Hale’s whole face had changed- bumpy ridges had replaced his brows over glowing golden eyes. His ears had elongated and his jaw had sprouted impressive hair. But that wasn’t nearly as impressive as the huge fangs jutting out over his lips as he let out a roar.

Stiles simply blinked as Hale tossed another of the men clear off the boat and then whirled towards him.

“How did you do that?” he heard himself ask, his voice a little faint. He didn’t think to raise his gun towards the other man. After all, Hale seemed more exasperated at him than aggressive.

“That’s not important, we need to get off the b-”

“Scott!” 

“Stiles, there’s no time!”

“I’m not leaving him!” Stiles shot right back and twisted around. He was face to face with a man in dark robes, his lips curled up in an ugly sneer. He blew strange purple-colored dust out of his palm just as Stiles ducked, expecting a punch. It hit Hale full in the face as Stiles stood back up and grabbed a handful of that robe and smacked the gun hard against their attacker’s face. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised- though since the man was now out cold, probably not him.

He didn't have long to gloat as Hale collapsed and ended up pitching off the side of the boat. "Hale? _Derek?!_ " Stiles called out as Hale didn't resurface right away, dodging away from another robed attacker. He made a quick decision, tucking the gun into his belt and his clothes around the puzzlebox still in his pocket. Then he dove wildly off the ship into the Nile river.

The water was a shock of cold but Stiles kicked hard, searching for Hale. He was nearly out of air, lungs burning so painfully, when he spotted a drifting hand. Hoping it was Hale and not one of their attackers, Stiles grabbed and tugged with all his might.

Their heads burst through the surface and Stiles was relieved to find it was Hale he was holding aloft and he was breathing (in between coughing up river water). "What happened?" Stiles gasped, churning water as he looked for the shore.

"Dust... think it paralyzed me partially- forget about that, don't drop me!" Hale growled out, though Stiles could see how it was bothering him to rely on the librarian.

"Don't worry, this is only twice you owe me your life," he smirked. 

"Stiles!"

"Fellas, over here!" Scott called out as he sloshed out to help Stiles drag Hale's body out of the river and back up on the shore. Stiles flopped on his back, staring in despair as the ship continued to burn as it sank. He wailed, startling both Hale and Scott. Well Scott was looking around in a panic while Hale looked like he was considering biting something.

"All our tools! My books! All gone!" Stiles moaned piteously. 

"Yeah, but Stiles, we're all alive.” Scott pointed out. Then his brows knit together with worry. “Who were those guys and what did they want?"

"No, the question is when did Hale turn into an Anubis-kin."


	5. In Which the Party Arrives at Hamunaptra

_Jan 12, 1933  
Somewhere in the deserts, Egypt_

Derek was seriously considering shoving Stilinski into the sands up to his neck and leaving him for the vultures. But he had saved his life so he wouldn't kill him. He might still smack him upside his head if he didn't stop talking, however.

"...are you positive that you don't remember anything? I mean how did you know how to take the Anubis-kin form when in danger? And why didn't you bust out of the jailhouse with said abilities? What prompted you-"

"Stiles! I DON'T KNOW!" Derek finally burst out when being silent and ignoring the questions didn't work. He whirled on the librarian, a little mollified when Stilinski hastily backed up. That only lasted briefly, his chin thrust up stubbornly. His face was also growing steadily more flushed under the desert sun.

"You really don't remember anything at all?"

"...." Derek refused to respond. What little he could remember was a jumble of images that made him want to throw up- fire tearing through people... people that he thought had been important to him though he couldn't say why. Nor could he say why the sound of feminine laughter always followed those memories. 

Stilinski was still watching him but there was sympathy or something else in his big dark eyes. "Okay, well hopefully you won't pull out any other surprises, though as surprises go the turning into an ancient warrior with fangs and claws is pretty keen."

Derek was surprised at that easy acceptance from him, blinking as Stilinski turned back to harass McCall about the camels he had bargained for. He should just leave it but Stiles seemed to know what he was and maybe knowing would spark his memories. "What did you mean. About ancient warriors," he demanded. 

The Anubis-kin, Stilinski was, of course, eager to share his passions about. He explained that they had been an order from the earliest days of the Pharaohs, possibly even before then. They pledged themselves to serving them and protecting the world from anyone who would use their powers for evil. They apparently possessed the speed, strength and other physical aspects of Anubis' favored animal - the African wolf. 

“What I find fascinating is that they were apparently very real,” Stilinski flailed an arm in Derek’s vague direction, though the rings under his eyes suggested that his rant wasn’t going to be very long. They’d been riding for days, well past sunset each day and McCall was already blinking blearily ahead of them. “I mean, obviously Hale didn’t come out of nowhere-... wait, I wonder if it’s like possession? Possessed by the spirit of Anubis? No, no, that’s just ridiculous. Maybe it’s more like a disease, blood-borne or maybe passed down along a family line? A small family group exiled out in the desert, surviving and passing along their traditions and their connection to the past- god this is so excit- ing,” Stilinski cut himself off with a huge yawn.

Derek let him ramble to himself, though part of him wanted to snap out what was so ‘exciting’ about being different from everyone else. Granted, he’d felt that way since he’d woken up in a hospital with no memory of his former life. He’d passed through the hospital, recovering at an astonishing rate physically. Mentally... well Derek couldn’t really disagree with their diagnosis at the time that he was paranoid, suffering from stress and severe trauma. 

Regardless of his state, he hadn’t been able to stay in the hospital any longer. He had found himself leaving in the middle of the night, under the light of the full moon. He’d gone through Cairo like a ghost, picking up work where he could before he ended up in the Legion... and that brought him here.

Stilinski and McCall were all but asleep on their camels. If he wanted to he could simply leave them. It was the smartest thing to do after the attack on the ship, not to mention the fact he could sense the fact they were being followed even now, possibly by desert nomads who preyed upon foolish tourists. He felt no kinship to them... but he found himself watching the dawn creep up over the edge of the horizon as he nudged Stilinski and McCall awake. 

“Get up, you wanted Hamunaptra, you’re about to see it,” he told them gruffly. His ears pricked up with the sound of approaching horses and men nearby- just over the ridge in fact. His lip curled up in annoyance, he’d half hoped that Harris’ party had drowned or gotten themselves lost. But then again Peter never would have gotten them lost unless he’d planned it that way.

The absent thought startled him. How had he known that about the other man? He hadn’t even seen his full face and yet Derek knew him. He didn’t like it- either Peter was someone from his past and refused to say so or... he had something to do with Derek’s current state. 

“What are we waiting for?” McCall asked, peering at Derek suspiciously.

“That.” 

Once the sun had crested high enough, Hamunaptra shimmered into vision. From there it was a mad scramble to the site- Harris barking at his workers that he would pay them handsomely to get there ahead of Stilinski’s own group. Derek’s felt his competitive side rear up but surprisingly it was McCall that managed to get to the gates first. He had an affinity for camels that paid off and Derek couldn’t help the smirk stealing across his face.

“Ah ha! I saw that,” Stilinski grinned brightly at him, looking incredibly pleased for his friend. “I knew you didn’t despise us as much as you pretended.”

“If I did, you wouldn’t have made it past the first night.”

Stilinski narrowed his eyes at him, “You know, when you talk in that deadpan tone, I can never tell if you actually mean it or not.”

Derek smirked as he dismounted, leaving Stiles to get himself down as he yelled about his face not helping matters.

****

_Jan 13, 1933  
Hamunaptra, Egypt_

Derek’s amusement didn’t last long however- Hamunaptra felt familiar but not in a good way. It felt... unsettled. Like unfinished business but he couldn’t put his finger on why. The wind rustled through the decaying remains, whispering gibberish to him. “I have a bad feeling about this place,” he murmured.

“You’re pulling my leg, right? This is the highlight of my life!” Stiles exclaimed, poking half his head down an opening, Derek barely having time to snatch him by the back of his suspenders.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Hey, paws off,” Stiles huffed, pulling back to reveal the layers of dust and dirt that were now liberally coating his person. He flashed a smug grin at Derek, making the older man want to push him right back into the hole. “In ancient times, they didn’t have this wonderful invention called ‘electricity’ so they made do with what they did have.” 

Derek didn’t bother egging him on though Scott did pipe up with the question of ‘what did they do’ instead. Stiles grinned, explaining about the way they’d used highly polished metals, like mirrors, to bounce light off of each other and illuminate the interior structure with the trick. 

“And I’ve found one of the mirrors here and it’s in perfect shape,” he exclaimed excitedly, swiping at the surface until it did reveal itself as exactly what he said it was.

“Fascinating as that is,” and Derek was reluctant to admit that was actually true, “- what was the point of dangling yourself into that hole?”

“Ah, I needed to make sure there is something down there to catch the light otherwise my little trick isn’t going to work. See that is the statue of Anubis,” he gestured vaguely behind Derek’s head towards the decaying visage of the dog-faced god. “According to my mom’s research, its body goes several feet under the surface here and that’s where we will find the book. Scott!” Stiles flashed the other man a somewhat crazed grin and Derek was surprised to see Scott not only agree to going down there but seemed just as enthused about it.

“I regret so many things about meeting you two.”

“Shush, just hold him steady with your muscles.”

Heaving a sigh, Derek braced himself against the edge of the hole and lowered Scott down into the empty room below. Stiles was muttering under his breath, trying to decide what sort of room it was- preparation, a kitchen, a great hall, scribbling to himself in a notebook that had been in his pack when they’d escaped from the boat. Derek found himself curious as to what else was written out in there when Scott called out for him to stop.

“Did you find one?” Stiles called down into the hole, cupping his eyes to ward off the glare of the sun.

“Yeah! I think it’s gonna work!”

“Great! Let me-” Stiles blinked up at Derek as he stood by the huge mirror, arching a brow. 

“What? I just don’t want to watch you whack yourself in the face with it while you try to maneuver it around,” he found himself explaining, hearing the defensiveness in his tone and unable to stop it. His ears heated up when Stiles only gave him a speculative look instead of mouthing off like Derek had expected him to do. 

“Fellas?” Scott called out, voice faint and far away. 

“Put the brakes on, will ya?” Stiles called out, getting back to the matter at hand, much to Derek’s relief. He gestured for Derek to tilt the mirror in increments until he caught the light just right. When he did, he was surprised at the result and judging from the excited noise from Scott, so was he. 

“Oh my god! You two, get down here! This is aces, Stiles!” 

And it was. 

Derek had never attempted to venture inside Hamunaptra itself when his company had marched into it at the behest of his former commander. Some of the other men had but so many disappeared after that the attempts simply stopped. It was with that in mind that Derek kept a close eye on both Scott and Stiles as they picked their way through the long corridors, following some logic that he couldn’t parse.

“Stiles, come here, you’ve gotta see this!” Scott called out as he disappeared into another room.

With nothing else to help for it, they followed after Scott. He was covered in dust but had a huge grin on his face, peering excitedly at Stiles until the other man let out a noise as well.

“Oh my god, it’s a sah-netjer!”

Derek looked around the room, with what looked like fire pits once and the remains of scattered tools. “What?”

“It’s a preparation room,” Scott explained as Stiles muttered to himself, trying to orient to the statue of Anubis. “It’s where they prepared the bodies for mummification. They would take out all your organs except for the heart. Oh and the brain, do you know how they pulled out the brain?” he asked gleefully.

“I uh-”

“They’d jam a red hot poker up your nose and rip it out through your nostrils,” Stiles piped up with a wide grin of his own. “Top marks, Scotty, I knew you were listening.”

“Awww, I wanted to tell him!”

“That sounds painful,” Derek shook his head, giving Scott a light swat against his own for being so determined to gross him out. Stiles had already scampered away out of reach and further down the darkened corridor, pausing only briefly to grab up one of the torches they’d carried down the hole with them.

“It is called mummification. Most people are dead you know.” 

“Most?” Derek repeated when Stiles called out for them impatiently. He was standing at the base of the statue that looked as if it had collapsed through the ceiling and partly through the floor below. Not that the fact bothered Stiles, he was climbing on it like a monkey when Derek yanked him down.

“See? It’s the legs of Anubis which means the secret compartment should be in it somewhere!” 

“I don’t care, that thing could still drop further through the floor and crush you to death!” Derek bared his teeth.

Stiles seemed to find it an invitation than a threat. “Aw, so you do care, Hale, I’m touched.”

“In the head.”

“Wait, did you hear that?” Scott shushed them, head cocked. He looked remarkable like a dog on point but before Derek could make a sarcastic comment, he heard the faint rumbling too. Immediately he pulled out his guns, body tensing. He was so stupid, playing around with these two morons like this, when he knew, he _knew_ how dangerous a place Hamunaptra could be! 

“Stiles, get back-” He barely got the words out and Stiles was already groping at his shoulder holster to pull out one of his spare guns. He winked at Derek.

“My dad is the police chief, remember?”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you secure a job in the public sector once you go home empty-handed,” Harris voice was quiet but cold and utterly dismissive. Derek had already raised his guns automatically at the words but he could feel Stiles bristling beside him, itching to start a fight.

The problem was, Anubis-kin or not, Harris’ party was a good twelve men, including Peter and the two brawny twins. 

“Take a long walk off a short pier, Harris, this is our dig site,” Stiles snapped out, planting his feet solidly. 

“I do realize you have quite a few deficiencies, Mr. Stilinski, but I didn’t realize counting was one of them. Let me do you the favor- there are twelve of us and three of you.” 

Derek bared his teeth, blunt as they still were, and was satisfied when Harris and several of the other men shifted nervously. “Maybe, but how many will you have left after we get through with you?”

He could hear Scott shuffling behind them, probably nervous at the confrontation. Stiles was on board with Derek, lifting up his gun higher and cocking it warningly. Derek felt his chest warm at the staunch support, though Stiles had to realize how futile the gesture was. At worse, they’d be killed and buried here with the rest of the decaying remains, at best, they’d have the stuffing beaten out of them. 

“Fellas, Stiles, c’mon. This site is big enough for all of us, right?” Scott pointed out, wedging his way between Derek and Stiles, giving a jerk of his head to signal something to Stiles. He seemed willing to go with whatever Scott was trying to do, stepping back, so Derek lowered his gun reluctantly.

Peter smirked at him from under his low hood, making Derek’s skin crawl even as he followed after his two younger companions. Before Stiles could demand an explanation of why Scott had stopped them- beside the fact it was suicide- he led them down a hallway that seemed even more coated with spiderwebs, the air stale and unmoving. Winding their way through the building, they made a steady descent downwards and eventually they ended up nearly directly below where the statue of Anubis stood. 

“See? I noticed that the flooring wasn’t solid earth and you said the secret compartment was probably at the base of it, right? I knew there might be another way,” Scott pointed out, grinning as Stiles grabbed his head and ruffled his hair in excitement.

“And this is why you are my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother,” Scott pointed out, though he seemed even prouder. Derek ignored them as he secured their torches into the wall sconces. He had a feeling they’d be down there a while.

“Then as my only brother you’ll use this pickaxe to help me knock down the ceiling.”

Before Scott could do it, Derek was intercepting him. “I’m not sure I trust either of you not to bring it down on our heads.”

Scott glared at him but Stiles was already muttering to himself as he ran his fingers over the hieroglyphics around the wall. He’d noticed that Stiles read with his fingers- even when the words were in English, his long precise fingers tended to follow the flow and shape of the words on a page- or wall in this case.

“According to what these say, we are in the antechamber below the statue so we should be able to come right up between Anubis’ legs.” Stiles grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Now to get up there...”

Scott was the one who found decorative stone blocks that had been carved with the story of Anubis and his favored. Derek briefly let his fingers brush over the leather bracer on his arm, spotting a familiar spiraled shape among the hieroglyphics. He ignored the nagging familiarity of what he could read and used them to climb high enough to reach the ceiling.

Taking a strong swing at the ceiling, the pickaxe immediately caused a shower of debris and dirt to rain down on them.

“You’re positive your book is under here?” Derek asked, more and more chunks of the ceiling falling away as he worked. Scott climbed up on his right, using a smaller crowbar to wedge out chunks himself as Stiles helped on his left. 

“Positive. I’m right about this, I just know it.”

Derek continued to swing the pickaxe, head down slightly to keep the smaller chunks of rubble out of his eyes. He had made a significant dent in the packed earth but he didn’t expect to suddenly find it giving way. They all fell backwards as some large box fell out of the base of the statue.

“And you were complaining about me bringing down the ceiling?” Scott complained.

“Button your lip.”

Coughing, Stiles’ head popped up immediately. “It’s a sarcophagus? What the heck’s a sarcophagus doing at the base of Anubis?”

“Maybe he wanted to rest in peace?” Scott piped up with a grin. Stiles groaned and shoved him back down into the dirt before Derek could get to him.

“You are not allowed to tell jokes anymore.”

“That was a great joke!”

“Tch,” Derek snorted, approaching the coffin slowly. He had no reason to feel apprehensive, but the hairs on the back of his head were standing on end, telling him there was something sinister in there. When Stiles reached out a hand to touch it, Derek found his own wrapped around his wrist, stopping him.

“Are you kidding me? It’s just a mummy!” Stiles protested, shaking off the hold. He frowned a moment later when his fingers brushed over a star-shaped indentation on the top of it. “Oh!” 

“What?”

“If it has a lock, it has to have a key!” Stiles pointed out, excited, as he rummaged through the only knapsack to survive the boat. He pulled out Derek’s own puzzlebox with a triumphant air.

“You said you hid that!”

“Well you didn’t know where it was, did you?”

“Stiles!”

“Shhh, Egyptology in progress,” He waved a hand that Derek briefly contemplated biting down on. But he followed along too, watching as it fit perfectly into the indentation. Stiles flicked his gaze up at Derek, the expression interested. “We really need to figure out what happened to your memories, pal.”

“Open the damn thing or I will,” he retorted, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Rolling his eyes, Stiles careful turned the puzzlebox, which was apparently a key. Derek’s sensitive hearing could pick up the sound of mechanisms moving when the lock clicked open. 

Inside of the sarcophagus was the decaying remains of a body. Its stench was nearly overpowering to Derek and he reeled backwards, coughing. “My god, that thing-”

“It’s still decomposing! How is that possible?” Stiles gasped out, far less concerned with Derek than the state of the corpse. “It’s still...”

“Juicy?” Scott supplied, poking the mummy’s arm where an elaborately carved bracelet was attached. It gleamed like new despite being well over 3,000 years old. 

Stiles apparently agreed.

“None of this makes sense. He should be dust and bones and yet he’s not and this bracelet isn’t tarnished or even worn despite the fact it looks like he was... holy shit,” Stiles waved them over to look at the lid of the coffin, absently plucking out the puzzlebox from the lock. “He was buried alive. Look, these are nail marks.”

Derek reached out and placed his fingertips against the gouges, far deeper than a human could manage. “No. They’re _claw marks_ ,” he rumbled, gesturing to the hieroglyphics carved into the lid as well. “What does that say?”

“It says... _’death is only the beginning’_.”

“I don’t like this,” he growled out, pulling Stiles’ hand away from the mummy. 

“It’s just a mummy,” Stiles argued, but followed as Derek walked away from the coffin, pacing really. His nose was stuffed with the scent of death. 

“Yeah? Then why was he buried alive? Why was his body hidden? Because he wasn’t supposed to be found, Stiles!” Derek turned, glaring at the other man. He didn’t know why but it felt utterly true to him. Whatever they’d uncovered wasn’t supposed to be found by anyone.

“Or he could have been someone very important! The pharaohs’ bodies weren’t supposed to be found either-”

“So why the giant pyramids?” Scott piped up from where he was still peering at the body.

No one paid him any mind.

“Oh?” Derek crossed his arms over his chest, smirking. “Tell me, _Professor_ , who do you think would be _important_ enough to be buried under the statue of Anubis in the Pharaoh's hidden city where no one would ever likely know where they were at?”

“....” Stiles fumed at him, flaring his nostrils, clearly annoyed by Derek’s logic. “I don’t know. But! We should find out!” He deflated abruptly, looking incredibly disappointed. “...the book isn’t here. It’s supposed to be here. She said-”

“C’mon. It’s getting late and we still need to set up a campsite,” Derek urged gruffly, nudging at Stiles’ shoulder with his own. Behind them, Derek’s ear twitched at the sound of an ominous clicking noise. Turning, he narrowed his eyes at Scott.

“What?” He blinked at Derek, shoving his shirt sleeves down over his wrists. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

****

It had been a long day for all of them. The sun had set long before Derek and Scott managed to pry Stiles out of the interior of Hamunaptra, still stubbornly convinced that the Book of Amun-Ra was somewhere in the base of the statue. Derek was coming back from one last sweep of the site and the perimeter, out of habit, when he heard the twins snickering at him from their own campsite several yards away.

“Hey Hale, if you run out of rations, I’m sure you could boil up some of that mummy meat you found!” One of them called out, snickering immediately.

“See, you won’t go home empty-handed,” the other called out, smirking as he polished what looked like a small ivory jar topped with an animal’s head. Whatever nonexistent guilt he had about swiping the toolkit for Stiles was gone- as well as the recently ‘liberated’ bottle of hooch. 

“No. No I won’t,” Derek smirked at them, turning to head back to the small fire Scott and Stiles were crowded around. He dropped the toolkit in Stiles’ lap before handing the booze to Scott. “Add it to the beans, it’ll make them taste better,” he stated simply.

“Thanks!” Scott beamed and Derek gave a soft snort. Scott could be stubborn and foolish but he was difficult not to like when he was being himself. 

“What’s this?” Stiles held up the kit, peering at Derek with a wide-eyed look that made the older man want to walk back the entire gesture. It wasn’t like he was trying to make up for anything or impress Stiles. It was simply the fact that Stiles couldn’t find what he was looking for if he didn’t have the right tools. 

Instead he dropped down onto the sand next to Stiles, staring at the fire. “It’s just a toolkit. Thought it might be useful since we lost most of the equipment.”

“Obviously it’s useful but where did you-”

“Just say thank you, Stiles.”

“Thank you, Stiles.”

Derek couldn’t stop the smirk from curling up his lip. Stiles spotted it too, his grin growing wider. 

“Is that booze you brought us too?” He asked, making ‘gimme’ hands at Scott.

“Sure you want to be drinking that?” Derek arched a brow at them.

“Big bad warrior thinks we can’t handle a little hooch!”

“I’m not a-” Stiles and Scott gave him identical looks of contempt so Derek stopped, holding up his hands. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Scott was the first to go once they started. He was crashed into a heap with his head thrown back, which would probably result in a crick come morning. 

Stiles was holding on remarkably well, considering he was mostly skin and bones, and had somehow ended up pressed warmly to Derek’s side during the course of the evening. Taking the bottle out from his fingers, Derek slugged back another mouthful. “How long have you known him?” He murmured, nudging Stiles with his elbow, chuckling at the discontented noise he made.

“Forever? Scott is my brother. First kid I ever met here,” Stiles sat up, blinking and smiling fondly at Scott from across the fire. Scott snored in response. “He’s amazing. You don’t even know... he’s so smart but he doesn’t think he is. He can speak Arabic and French and a little bit of Turkish and Greek but because he’s a- a-a worker, not a soldier, Argent doesn’t think he’s good enough for his daughter.”

Derek made a thoughtful noise in his throat. “There’s other concerns usually.”

“No, no, no,” Stiles insisted, snatching back the bottle and took a mouthful spitefully. “He’s got a good heart, _that’s_ what matters. And he took care of his mom before she married my dad. He wants to be a doctor- no, he’s _going_ to be one. That’s why he’s here you know, to get enough scratch to make it happen.”

“I can understand that. But I don’t understand you. It is just about your mother?” Derek asked, tilting his head to watch the firelight reflect in Stiles’ rather pretty brown eyes. “You don’t have to be out here, it’s dangerous and costly. You could go back to England and study in a real university.”

Stiles curled up his lips, huffing. “Go to University? And do what? Study bones and artifacts that have traveled a thousand miles from where they were unearthed so some old man can drone on about what he _thinks_ they are indicative of? I’m not going to sit in an office all my life! I may not be an official Egyptologist or a graverobber or.... or a creature of the night, _Mister Hale!_ But I am proud of what I am!” Stiles poked Derek in his chest. Derek felt his lips twitch in amusement but he sat there stoically enough. 

“And that is?” Derek prompted when Stiles got lost in thought.

“I-” He held up a finger, a grin spreading across his lips. “....am a librarian!” Derek couldn’t help the little snort that escaped and realized that he was actually smiling. He tried to hide it but it wasn’t apparently fast enough to make sure that Stiles couldn’t see it. He licked his lips, gaze dropped to Derek’s own, and Derek found himself a little bit short of breath. “I’m going to kiss you now, Mister Hale.”

“Derek.” While _mister_ was better than Stiles barking out Hale all the time, he found himself wanting to hear his actual name in the circumstances.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles sighed out obediently and leaned in, lips puckered right up-

Derek’s eyes had closed in spite of himself when Stiles leaned in but then he felt the thump of something hitting his lap. Opening his eyes revealed a passed out librarian across his thighs and Derek just... shook his head.


	6. In Which All Hell Breaks Loose, Scott Admits to Doing Something Stupid and Stiles Does Something Even Stupider

_Jan 13, 1933  
Base camp, Hamunaptra_

Stiles wasn’t sure why he woke up at first, groggy. What was that eerie noise? Was that a howl? Beside him, surprisingly close, Derek surged upwards. He tossed a rifle to Stiles’ chest as he moved towards the noise. “Take this. And stay put!”

“Wait-” Stiles blinked, fumbling the gun as he realized that howling was coming from more than one animal, actually it was coming from a pack of them, bearing down on the ancient city. From their camp he could see where they began to tear into Harris’ camp, sending his workers screaming and running.

“What’s going on?” Scott asked as he knuckled his eyes open.

“There’s an attack on the camp!” Stiles hissed, moving the rifle into a more familiar position against his shoulder. “C’mon!”

“Are you loony? We don’t want to get torn apart!”

“Derek’s down there,” Stiles argued, climbing down the slight incline as Scott followed after. When he was closer to the camp he could see it was pure chaos. The wolves were bigger than he thought at first, nearly the size of the horses two of them were harassing. He couldn’t get a good number on them besides that, they were too fast.

There was a ton of gunfire going off as well, more than even Stiles expected. “Did they outfit for a war?” he hissed at Scott.

“It’s a good thing they did, look!” Scott jerked Scott around. Two more wolves, a huge one, so dark brown it was nearly black, and a smaller, sleeker charcoal gray, had backed the twins up against a fallen column. Scott moved to help them but he was knocked over by a buff-colored wolf. Actually it looked like one of the ones that had been near the horses, so where was the other-

Before Stiles could finish his thought, he was knocked over onto his back into the sand. Immediately he lifted the rifle to defend himself- only to find a large, fanged maw tearing it out of his grip. 

“Shit,” he stuttered, eyes wide as the wolf moved closer, forcing him flat on the ground.

Suddenly there was a loud roar from over his shoulder, and a shadow fell over his body. Hazarding a glance upwards to see if he was actually being fought over like a particularly skinny chewtoy, he was startled to see that Derek was behind him, snarling and flashing his own impressive teeth.

“Oh my god.”

The wolf seemed uncertain and Stiles couldn’t blame it. He was yanked up out of the sand and shoved bodily behind Derek, who was still making a low growling noise in his throat. He stopped when another howl rang out. All the wolves frozen, their ears swiveling towards the call.

On top of a crest of sand stood a slim wolf shape that melted into a robed figure striding towards them. Stiles thought that it was a Bedouin at first until he saw the woman’s piercing pale eyes. She pulled the black cloth from her mouth, revealing a pretty face probably a few years Stiles’ senior. 

“Derek?” She called out softly, ignoring the rest of the wolves transforming into robed humans as well. She reached out a hand with a vaguely familiar triple-spiral tattooed in blue ink upon it. “Derek? We thought you were dead.”

Derek backed up further into Stiles and he could feel every muscle tensing in the other man’s body. “I don’t know you.”

“What?” Hurt flashed on her face. “I’m Laura. I’m your sister.”

“Sister?” Stiles gaped- and yes, if he looked she resembled him. Stubborn chin, dark hair, pale blue-gray-green eyes and a sharp aquiline nose. “Are you serious?”

“Button up. I don’t have a sister.”

“How do you know? You have amnesia! You could have ten sisters for all we know!” Stiles argued, flailing a hand towards Laura. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a tall, curly-haired man in robes helping Scott to his feet. “Look, they’ve stopped attacking us.”

Derek ignored him, lifting his chin. “What do you want.”

“I’d like to know where the hell my little brother has been for the last eight years but I’ll settle for all of you clearing out of here,” Laura drawled out. 

“Hey, this is our dig site!” Scott protested, looking stubborn. “You got here after us, you don’t get chase us off and steal what we’ve uncovered.”

“These people aren’t interested in treasure, Scott,” Derek replied quietly.

“Now you remember?” Stiles grumbled at him, trying to move forward to see better but Derek refused to let him, snatching him by the back of his collar. 

“This is a cursed place, you morons,” A younger woman than Laura piped up. She was dark haired as well with similar enough features to make Stiles wonder if she too was related. She moved to join the large black man and the blonde woman smirking at them as she examined her wickedly curved claws. Stiles was glad that it was too dark to see if there was blood on them. 

“Leave this place by sunset tomorrow,” Laura ordered, staring up at Derek. “Leave it or die.” 

“You’d kill your own brother?” Stiles asked skeptically, glancing between them. Derek’s face was like a statue, remote and hard in a way that made Stiles realize he’d been relaxing, bit by bit, with him and Scott. He felt an irrational sort of anger welling up that this attack had forced him back into his defensive shell. 

To her credit, Laura did look conflicted for a moment before she nodded. “If it meant preventing the creature from returning and destroying the world?... Yes.”

Nodding at her pack, Laura was the last to shift into that wolf shape to disappear back into the deserts.

*****

_Jan 14, 1933_  
 _Base camp, Hamunaptra_

Unsurprisingly, none of them got very much sleep the rest of the night. Their camp fared far better than Harris’ camp had but Stiles was too preoccupied to gloat as he and Scott headed back to their dig site the following morning. The Harris camp was buzzing with activity.

“Sounds like they got reinforcements this morning,” Scott murmured, cocking his head a little. 

Stiles blinked, frowning. “You can hear that?”

“You can’t?” Scott was briefly confused, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Well, what are they saying?” 

“Harris is angry that Peter disappeared in the middle of the raid last night and didn’t show up until right now. Also some of them are trying to break up and leave. See?” He pointed to Matt, Aiden and Ethan packing up their personal supplies onto some horses. Matt paused to uncover a wrapped item in his hands and Stiles could’ve sworn it was an ivory canopic jar. 

“Figures. They’ll sell anything they have and they’ll end up in private collections that will never be seen by anyone with an ounce of academic credence!” Stiles moaned, thunking his head onto Scott’s shoulder.

“Not so loud, okay?”

“What is with you today? When I woke you up you nearly vaulted over the campfire!” Stiles huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. When Scott’s eyes darted to the side, Stiles knew that there really was something going on. “Scott, pal, you know you can trust me, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Just... don’t lose it, okay?” He grabbed Stiles’ hand and drug him into the overhang of a nearby entrance. He then rolled up the sleeve on his left arm to reveal an intricately carved bracelet that was attached to Scott’s forearm. It was a heavy-looking thing, golden and carved into a shape of scorpion’s body but with a wolf’s head attached. A wickedly lethal-looking tail curved over the head. It wrapped around his wrist and forearm. 

“It’s not the fashion statement I would choose for you, I’ll give you that.”

“Stiles! I can’t get it off!” Scott huffed, tugging at it ineffectually. “It clamped onto me yesterday when I was looking at it.”

“When was that?”

“When you and Derek were flirting.”

“What? We’re not- we _haven’t_ -” Stiles spluttered, feeling his neck heating up. From the sun. The hot desert sun. Scott shot him a look that made Stiles wave him off. “Look, I’m sure it’s just got a trick to it, like the puzzlebox.”

“Then help me! You don’t understand, it’s affecting me,” Scott bit his lip, Stiles humming in his throat as he turned Scott’s arm to and fro to look at the bracelet more thoughtfully. “I... I had this really weird.... vision or dream or something. I was in ancient Egypt I guess and there was this _beautiful_ woman, like a princess- actually she reminded me a lot of Allison...”

Stiles snorted but let Scott ramble on about his ‘princess’ fighting another woman in front of a group of people in what he’d guess was a throne room of some sort. “Sounds like a demonstration. Visiting dignitaries would often perform for the pharaoh to show both their deference to the pharaoh and their skill,” he explained absently. The cuff was really tightly attached.

“But they weren’t visiting dignitaries.”

“Right, right, princess and... concubine?” He attempted pressing the small gold beads on the bracelet, then twisting them but they didn’t budge. Frowning, he stood up straight. “This is really stuck on.”

“I told you that!” 

“Don’t sweat it!” Stiles assured him, seeing that Scott was genuinely in distress. “We’ll figure it out, just like you figured out the puzzlebox. It’s not like we’re on a timetable, right?”

“I guess so.” He rolled his sleeve down over the bracelet, looking pensive. “Are we packing up today?”

Stiles sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back against the pillar. “Derek wants to, but that’s not exactly a surprise. He didn’t want to come back here in the first place.”

“Derek’s sister seemed pretty keen for us to go.”

Stiles huffed, chewing his lip. “Derek doesn’t trust her.”

“Derek doesn’t trust anyone,” Scott reminded him, crossing his arms over his chest then switching his stance when the bracelet pinched uncomfortably. “He doesn’t even trust us most of the time!”

“A little bit of time is better than none,” Derek’s voice came from behind Stiles, making him twist to look at him as Derek pulled down the headwrap he was wearing to shield his face from the increased wind. “We need to leave.”

“Just give me a little more time,” Stiles begged, looking into Derek’s eyes directly. “Please. I need to try one more time to find the book. If we can’t find it by sunset, we’ll leave. I promise.”

Derek was silent for a long moment, eyes still locked with Stiles’ own and his heart beat loudly in his ears. Then he just gave a sharp nod of his head. “I’ll carry you out if I have to. Get on with it,” he declared, jerking his head at the entryway they were in front of.

*****

Unfortunately for Stiles, he still wasn’t able to find the book by the time noon had come around and they had to take a break, Scott herding him into the cooler shade. They ate their rations while Stiles explained about what else he’d found.

“These shells come from the Apshai!” he handed one to Scott, its blue-green sheen somewhat pretty even if it was a beetle. “They don’t exist anymore, but they were flesh eaters. I found some of these in the sarcophagus with our mystery mummy.”

“Is this the kind of conversation we want to have right now?” Scott whined, wrinkling his nose as he eyed the rest of his lunch. 

“Do you mean they found their way in or they were put in with him?” Derek asked, picking one of them out of Stiles’ hand. 

“Well, I think it’s quite possible. Remember, the sacred inscriptions were scored off the casings so no one would know who he was, an incredible insult. And we already know he was buried alive. So I think he might have suffered from the Hom-Dai.”

Scott frowned around his flatbread. “I know that, don’t I?”

“Yes, Miss Martin likes to scare the tourists with the curse of the mummy nonsense but it is amazing. I’ve never heard of any actually being performed, so we did make something of a discovery here.”

“You don’t believe in curses?” Derek arched a brow.

“I believe if I can see it or touch it, then it’s real,” Stiles replied firmly. 

“You didn’t believe in Anubis-kin before you met me, then?” Derek arched a brow.

“Well, I’ve seen you and touched you, so now I believe in you,” he smirked, ignoring Scott’s disgusted groan. Derek held his eyes for a long moment before he reached for a waterskin. Stiles’ eyes tracked the muscles moving in his forearm absently before he noticed what was so different about it. He was missing his bracer and there was a triple-spiral shape on the inset of his wrist. 

“Hey!” He reached out and grabbed Derek’s wrist, pulling it closer to look at it. “That woman, Laura, she had this same tattoo last night!”

Derek grunted, tugging his wrist. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” Stiles argued, tugging right back childishly. “She could be telling the truth!”

“She’s not.” Derek yanked his wrist back, immediately slapping his bracer back on with angry, jerky motions.

“How are you so sure?!”

“Because the only thing I remember about my past is watching my entire family burn to death!”

Stiles and Scott could only gape as Derek stalked away from their lunch, disappearing back into the tombs or wherever. Stiles could barely process the information. Derek’s entire family was dead? Then who was Laura? What happened to cause the fire in the first place?

*****

Stiles was still stewing hours later, uselessly staring at the walls of the catacombs when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Turning slowly, he nearly sag in relief when he spotted Peter. Then stiffened up again- why would he feel safe being alone with him?

“Something I can help you with?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

“Actually, I think we can help each other,” Peter crooked a finger from beneath his robes and Stiles noted again how mangled it appeared. Pink and shiny, like the skin had been burned away and healed over. He hesitated for a moment before his curiosity won out. 

Peter did not lead him further into the tomb like he expected but out through a side entrance and into the heart of Harris’ camp. It was mostly empty.

“Shouldn’t you be with the rest of Harris’ party?”

“Yes.” He ducked into Harris’ personal tent and Stiles followed after. He immediately spotted a heavy tome sitting in the center of the makeshift desk. It was dark and certainly not gold but ancient, Stiles could feel it in his bones.

“The _Professor_ ,” Peter mocked, standing close to Stiles’ ear. “Was quite put out to realize he could not access the secrets within so easily. Do you have any ideas, Mister Stilinski?”

Stiles’ hands trembled as he reached out to pick up the book, awed by the sheer weight of history. He attempted to pry it open before he realized there was an indent on the cover shaped exactly like the one on the puzzlebox. “A key! It needs a key!” He exclaimed excitedly, digging into his satchel to produce it. 

With a grin of triumphant flashing over his face, Stiles used the puzzlebox to pop open the cover of the book. He paid no mind to the wind picking up outside as he greedily read over the inscriptions. “I knew it wasn’t the Book of Amun-Ra, this is the Book of the Dead!” He declared, licking his lips. “I’m not sure I can read this- oh, thank you!”

Stiles accepted the paper and pen slipped under his hand, Peter a forgotten shadow behind him. His pen scratched over the paper as he mumbled half-formed words under his breath. “I can never remember that one... the stork... what’s the stork...”

“Amenophis.”

“Yes!” Stiles crossed out a line and rewrote it, mumbling to himself. “Amun-Ra... Amun-dei...” 

Suddenly screams erupted from the temple and Stiles nearly dropped the book in his fright. “What’s going on out there?”

Standing, Stiles darted out of the tent to find out, leaving the book abandoned on the desk. The Anubis-kin had said they had until sunset and it wasn’t that late yet. The remaining workers were pounding across the sands, terrified by the huge swarm of beetles flowing up out of the ground like oil that writhed and chittered. “Oh my god!”

“Stiles! Get over here, now!” Derek called out, firing his rifle. It made pockets in the swarm but it barely paused their advance. 

Pelting full tilt, he nearly ran directly into Derek, but he just tucked Stiles in close to his side and shoved them through the tunnel entrance. “Where’s Scott?” He called out.

“Inside, he doesn’t know about them! We have to find him!” Derek twisted and fired another shot of lead at the mass of flesh-eaters. Reaching out, Stiles ripped a torch from a wall sconce. It was a little protection at least.

“What happened?” He asked, leaping over a broken pillar and nearly diving into a chasm if Derek hadn’t caught him by his suspenders. To thank him, Stiles wrapped one arm around his waist and yanked Derek out of the pouring stream of bugs that careened down into the massive hole.

Derek glanced down at him before giving a brief nod. “Something is getting woken here. Those beetles were exposed by the excavating.”

“Come on, through here, Scott said he wanted to look down by the statue one more time,” Stiles grasped Derek by his free hand and tugged him through a passage to their left. The screams of men unable to escape the beetles echoed through the entire fortress, ringing in Stiles’ ears. He flinched and tightened his grip on Derek’s hand. He felt the prick of Derek’s claws against his palm but he didn’t pull away and neither did Derek. 

Unfortunately, due to either sheer terror or a lack of natural sense of direction while pelting full tilt into the dark underground labyrinths, they did not end up back at the mummy’s burial site but in some circular burial room with the bugs right on their heels.

Feeling his chest tighten in panic, Stiles glanced around wildly for some sort of exit, waving his torch at the bugs for all he was worth. 

“We can’t hold them off like this,” Derek snarled, aiming another shot- not that he needed to, given the sheer mass of the bugs.

“You think I don’t know that?!”

“You’re the one that led us here!”

“Oh excuse me, next time we’re running in terror, I’ll let _you_ lead!”

“Button up and climb,” Derek turned and pushed Stiles up on a crumbling column using the cubbyholes in the walls to brace himself. 

“There’s not enough room up here for both of us!” Stiles protested as he gritted his teeth, feeling his palms getting skinned. 

“I know.”

He jerked, looking back down at Derek who was helping boost him up. “Derek, I’m not leaving you-”

“Stiles-”

“Fellas!” Scott broke into their argument from the entryway. To Stiles’ complete astonishment, Scott was warding off the bugs with his bracelet. He waved it around and they recoiled like an invisible wall was shielding Scott from them. “Hurry, I don’t know if this thing’s gonna give out or not!”

Derek nearly yanked Stiles off the wall and carried him out of the room. He felt a bit conflicted- on the one hand, he wasn’t going to die, but on the other, he had a disconcerting reminder of just how strong Derek was. And then he had to top that by grabbing up a huge slab of broken wall to shove in place, trapping at least some of the Apshai inside.

“That won’t hold them for long, there’s too many cracks they can push through,” Stiles warned, urging them to follow him back outside. The words were barely out of his mouth when the temple began to rumble around then. 

“GO!” Derek shoved them both to get moving. But even with the rock and Scott’s bracelet, the scarabs were like a sweeping flood behind them. It was a race between the increasing racket of chittering noise behind them and the light at the entry way that signalled open areas for them to flee towards. But when they were out there, what would keep the beetles from devouring them? They needed higher ground.

With a stitch in his side, Stiles passed through the opening and glimpsed Laura’s wildly grinning face. 

“HIT THE DECK!”

They all dove for cover, Derek’s body landing nearly on top of Stiles, as Laura and the other two women in her pack unleashed their flame throwers. They moved in long, easy waves back and forth, beating back the tide of bugs with glee. 

Eventually they petered out and the women turned off the flamethrowers, looking sweaty but pleased with themselves. “Well, little brother, it’s a good thing I still am looking out for you, even when you’re being a stubborn ass.”

*****

Adrian stumbled into his tent, terrified nearly to the point of jibbering by the screaming and the chaos outside. Unfocused, he swept across his desk finding the Book of the Dead opened with translated scribbles on top of it. He barely had a chance to recognize the loathed handwriting when he sensed he wasn’t alone in his tent. Turning, Adrian nearly screamed when he spotted Gerard Argent sitting on his cot, cane clasped between his hands.

“Is the translation finished?”

“Wha- did you not notice the fact the camp was overrun by.... whatever those are!” He snapped out. He had seen things that should not exist! Anubis-kin, monstrous and inhuman, the Apshai, things that were myths, just myths! “Who gives a damn about translations when our lives are on the-” His voice cut out when Gerard abruptly hit him in the throat with his cane, making Adrian able to only focus on gasping for air for several precious moments.

When he tuned back into his surroundings, Gerard had the Book of the Dead opened, peering down at the page he’d been translating. A smile curled up his lips, sinister and triumphant. Nearby lay the body of the mummy Stilinski’s group had found, maw twisted into a pained grimace that spoke of what it had endured. “What in god’s name is that thing doing in my tent?” he rasped out, pushing himself up onto his knees.

“Bringing me immortality.”

“W- are you mad?” Adrian asked, quivering. “The Book of the Dead is just a book-”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Gerard sneered, jabbing at the page. “Is it complete?”

Adrian licked his lips, stalling. “That idiot Stilinski was the one that wrote this, I wouldn’t put much faith in what he can produce.”

The hunter narrowed his eyes sharply, but then his smile grew even more terrifying. “Ah, he did it. He figured out what I need,” he declared and Adrian swore, scrambling to stand. He could only stand by, helplessly fascinated, as the older hunter recited the ancient Egyptian words. The wind seemed to grow into a howl outside the tent, making the oil lamps flickering wildly as he chanted. 

“No, no, you must not-” Adrian called out desperately over the wind. “Stop-”

But Gerard would not. There was a shriek that made him want to claw off his ears and Adrian whimpered when he realized it had come from the _mummy_. It had just begun to actually move, fingers twitching, when a movement flashed out of the corner of Adrian’s eyes and he turned in time to watch Peter rake claws through Gerard’s neck. Blood sprayed out across Adrian’s face and he could only stare in mute horror.

Peter turned to the mummy and finished the spell or chant or whatever it was, Adrian could no longer process the scene playing out. 

“It is unfortunate that you witnessed that, Dr. Harris,” Peter replied, his voice casual and stronger than it ever sounded before. He let the concealing robe he wore drop off his body. He was scarred across swaths of his body from burns and was almost as horrifying as the mummy itself. “But, you do save me the trouble of chasing you down for your innards.”

To Adrian’s horror the mummy’s corpse slowly withered to dust under Peter’s claws as a black mist swirled around him and covered him. When he could see Peter clearly again, his eyes were glowing red. He screamed as Peter’s mouth opened, full of dagger sharp fangs.


	7. In Which Our Heroes Attempt to Find a Way to Thwart Evil

_Jan 15, 1933  
Base camp, Hamunaptra_

“What was that?” Scott demanded, eyes wide with fear as the sky blacken suddenly, the clouds covering the sun. The wind howled like nothing Stiles had ever heard before. Or ever wanted to again.

Laura paled, dark hair whipping around her face. “Oh no. Oh god no... someone’s released it! Erica, Cora! Get the boys and get everyone out of here, _now_!” she ordered, grabbing Stiles and Derek’s arms to haul them forward and away from Hamunaptra. The other women darted off into the growing darkness.

“What are you talking about?!” Stiles demanded when he wrestled his arm out of her grip.

“Someone has released Imhotep, which we have been trying to keep from happening for more than three thousand years, and now the 10 plagues of Egypt will rain down on all our heads if we don’t get a move on right fucking now!” She snarled. “I’m going to kill whoever read from the book!”

“Would it be a big black book with a lock on it?”

“Stiles!” Derek and Scott yelled in unison.

“I didn’t _read_ from it, I just _translated_ it!”

“Well someone found what you wrote,” Derek growled.

Stiles jerked, eyes going wide. “Peter! Peter brought me to the book, he _wanted_ me to translate it-”

“Peter?” Derek and Laura both looked like they’d been struck. 

“Peter, our uncle?” she asked, looking at Derek. “But he is in a hospital in Cairo. His burns-”

Derek flinched at the words but locked his jaw. “No. He led Harris’ group here. I saw him on the ship, I knew him, but I couldn’t remember... would he do this?”

“I think.... I think he might,” she bit her lip. Her expression was conflicted for only a short moment before she seemed to shake it off, squaring her shoulders. “Regardless of who did what, we have to get you to safety and find a way to kill him before he regenerates further. If he fully restores his body, he will be untouchable, no mortal weapon can kill him.”

“Boyd and Isaac got everyone rounded up, now we can leave,” Cora announced as she ran up, giving Derek a curious look before nodding at Laura. Laura squeezed her shoulder. 

“We’ll escort them all back to Cairo. We need to find out who took the canopic jars, they will be the targets for Peter. Heaven help us all if he gets to them before we do,” Laura frowned grimly.

*****

_Jan 22, 1933_  
 _somewhere along the Nile_

The ship that took them back towards Cairo was not nearly as nice or as spacious as the one that had taken them upriver but beggars couldn’t be choosers, especially when they weren’t entirely certain if a recently reanimated Egyptian priest was coming after them or not. Still, Stiles had been afforded a cabin (that he shared with Scott) in which to have an argument with Derek in relative peace.

“- circling me like an angry dog isn’t going to make this trip any easier you know!” Stiles glared across the cabin at his grumpy companion, tucking the Book of the Dead carefully back into his satchel. Laura had ordered her minions to find Peter, following his scent trail. The curly-haired one (Isaac?) said that his scent had changed but he’d brought the book to her for safe keeping. She’d allowed Stiles at it since he had translated it in the first place.“I didn’t realize what was going to happen!”

“Did absolutely _nothing_ I said to you sink into that skull of yours?” Derek glared right back, following Stiles around the tiny cabin. Scott had long since retreated to let them hash it out themselves since they were determined to do so.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where you mentioned the three-thousand-year-old mummy bent on world domination!” Stiles whirled around, poking Derek in his chest, cheeks flushed in outrage. “We can’t undo what happened, but we can fix it!”

“No, oh no, I’m not getting roped into _anything_ with you again!” Derek growled, knocking shoulders with Stiles as if he meant to leave the cabin. He turned on his heel before he reached the door however. “What do you think you can do anyways?”

“Why do you care? You’re just going to leave anyways, all you wanted was your puzzlebox!” Stiles grabbed for his knapsack, pawing for the stupid thing. 

“Don’t treat me like I’m a mercenary!”

“If you’re not a mercenary, then what are you?” Stiles threw the puzzlebox at Derek’s head in sheer frustration, even as a part of himself moaned in horror at treating an ancient object with such disrespect. Derek batted it aside, brows descending over his nose like thunderclouds.

“I don’t know anymore! Ever since I met you, you’ve done nothing but disrupt my life!” He growled out, stalking Stiles back around the small table. 

Stiles wasn’t backing down without a fight however. “Considering when we met you were in _jail_ , I’d say that I’ve only improved your life.” 

Derek lunged, and Stiles pretty much expected to be eating the cabin’s flooring. Instead he found himself yanked up bodily against Derek. He had a scant moment to meet his eyes before Derek was kissing him. It should’ve been rough- what with the fighting and the frustration coming off of him in waves- but it wasn’t. Derek was startlingly _earnest_. His hands cupped Stiles’ jaw and tilted his head to the side- and yowza, yes that was _good_. Stiles had always assumed ‘making your toes curl’ was just an expression... well, there was a good chance there was a reason for it.

His arms found their way around Derek’s shoulders, one hand gripping at his hair while the other fisted the material of his shirt, keeping them locked together. The noise Derek made in response was approving and vibrated his chest against Stiles’ own. Parting his lips, he was fairly certain if they kept pace like this he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Slick tongues and nipping teeth were no substitute, however entertaining. 

“Whoa, that was unexpected, not unwelcom- oh, we’re doing the- ooh yes,” Stiles slumped, tilting his head out of the way as Derek ignored his chatter to mouth down his throat. Every little mean pinch of teeth had him squirming and Derek’s hands on his waist flexing in impatience. Noticing that apparently took far more concentration than Stiles ever thought it would and he didn’t hear the first sharp knocks on their cabin door. 

“Guys, you need- oh whoa, whoa!” Scott yelped.

Derek actually bared his teeth at him, making Stiles elbow him. “Behave you,” he muttered, pleasantly buzzed with the skin on his neck tingling. “Scott, stop being such a prude, everyone’s dressed.”

Scott peeked one eye back open cautiously before he opened and closed his mouth in rapid succession. Derek had slipped back into his aloof expression, arching a brow in a silent dare.

“Scott? C’mon back Scotty, what’s going on?” Stiles prompted, snapping his fingers.

“The river-” He blurted, swallowing hard. “You have to come see it, it’s... it’s blood.”

Stiles frowned, glancing up at Derek briefly. “That’s not... possible.”

Still, they both followed Scott back up onto the main deck, joined by most of the other passengers. The Nile was far darker than he’d ever seen it and the smell... it was unmistakable. The coppery tang... already there were fish floating up on the surface. Laura stepped up beside them, mouth set in a firm line.

“ _And the rivers and the waters of Egypt ran red, and were as blood..._ ” she murmured. “The curse is setting in. The stronger he gets, the more plagues will be set upon us.... until he is unstoppable.”

Stiles couldn’t let that happen. He had to find some way to stop this- even if he hadn’t intended it, he’d helped set all this in motion. If he didn’t stop it, who would?

*****

_Jan 23, 1933_  
 _Cairo, Egypt_

Kate Argent took the news of her father’s demise rather well- much to the discomfort of the men who brought her said news, fresh from their flight from Hamunaptra. She waved them off with a snort, moving to sit behind her father’s desk, kicking her feet up on it. “Oh don’t look at me like that. Dad was an old man trying to outrun death. Now, you said that Peter was the one that awoke the mummy and bonded with it?”

“Yeah, he tore through the workers. I guess he was looking for the canopic jars. That’s what the workers were moaning about when we took ‘em,” Matt replied, shifting nervously. He fingered the jar in his grip, glancing over at the twins.

“Is it true that he will come for anyone who has one?”

“Yes.” Peter’s voice had an echoing quality to it if Kate were inclined to think about it much. She lurched out of the lounge she’d taken, fingers immediately hunting for her gun. But she was more interested in making sure that the twins and Matt were between her and the creature. He was a mangled wretch- burned and twisted, barely alive. That did not stop him from pouncing on the three.

Matt was the first to go, to no one’s surprise. While the twins dove for the display case, Peter simply grabbed the photographer by the throat and shoved his head into the fountain in the center of the room. Peter held him under, while he thrashed until his legs stopped kicking. As soon as he died, Peter’s flesh rippled, his scars gradually smoothing out into unblemished skin, the muscles underneath filling out.

Kate didn’t move to help, her lips curled up in sick fascination. Mind working out how to spin it to her favor, Kate watched Aiden lunge with a bronze sword and Ethan unloaded the shotgun into Peter’s body. Nothing they attempted made any impression on Peter, shrugging off both the bullets and grabbing Aiden’s sword hand. He used Aiden's own strength to force him to ram the weapon through Ethan’s gut.

Aiden turned white and gasped in horror. He didn’t move to defend himself, too stunned, as Peter leaned in and ripped out his throat with his bloody, gnashing teeth.

When he stood, whole and handsome again, Kate recognized Peter for who he had been and paled. She had a moment to think, to consider, before she decided to gamble. Standing up, she greeted him in Hebrew. “ _Greetings oh wise Imhotep, I am Anck-su-namun, I have searched for you to bring you back from your torment._ ”

Peter turned, baring his teeth, but paused. Leaning in, he stared into her eyes. What he was looking for, she couldn’t guess. Her grip on her revolver was getting slick, but she was gambling on the fact that bearing two minds in one host would make his mind muddled and easier to manipulate.

“Anck-su-namun...” he crooned, reaching out to run his fingers over her throat. Kate swallowed back bile as she smiled. “You are not quite her but... I will restore you and then... then we will take revenge.”

“I would have it no other way, my lord,” She smiled, wicked and pleased.

*****

_Jan 23, 1933_  
 _Martin Residence, Cairo_

After the blood, the gnats came quickly, almost as soon as they hit the port. Barely anyone was in the streets, and with good cause. If the gnats swarmed too heavily they could suffocate a man and then feast on the corpse until nothing was left but bones in a matter of hours. It was horrifying and made Stiles grateful for the protection of the Martin residence, however guilty he felt when they forced their way inside.

“We have to do something!” Stiles smashed his fist against his palm, frustrated. “We can’t let this go on any more.”

“But we don’t know what we _can_ do,” Scott pointed out, spreading his hands. “There is no mortal weapon that can kill it.” 

“I pored through the Book of the Dead from cover to cover, there’s nothing in there to reverse it, though there does seem to be a spell to ward off the Apshai beetles- wish I knew that before-”

“It’s too bad you don’t have the Book of the Living,” Scott mused.

“- and even if I was able to find a spell in it, how would we get close enough to try?” Stiles muttered to himself, pacing back and forth until he stopped short. “What did you say?”

“About the Book of the Living? I was joking, there isn’t really one... is there?”

“The Book of Amun-Ra. The Book of Amun-Ra! How could I be so stupid! Lydia! _Lydia_!” He cried out in excitement, tearing out of the sitting room and nearly taking out a priceless vase in the process. He apparently got everyone’s attention with that, though he ignored Derek purposefully righting the vase as Lydia floated down the stairs with a disapproving pout. 

“Stiles, when I allowed you all to camp out in my home, it wasn’t with the notion you were going to tear through it like a possessed maniac.” She narrowed her eyes sharply. Had it been a week ago, Stiles would’ve curled up in the corner at displeasing her. 

Now he waved a hand at her. “I need a copy of Emerson’s Treaty on Seti I! I need to confirm a theory!”

Pursing her lips, Lydia made him wait for several moments before coming down the stairs to lead him into the library. Running her fingers over the spines of the books, she plucked it out. Stiles snatched it out of her hands, chewing on his fingernail.

“Mind cluing the rest of us into what’s going on in your brain?” Derek asked, following him into the room with Scott not far behind.

“My mom’s theory was that the Book of Amun-Ra was in Hamunaptra, right? Right. Well she wasn’t wrong about the location, she just had the wrong _book_!” He grinned triumphantly and thrust the book in Derek’s face, making his eyes cross to peer at the page. “The prevailing theory is that the Book of the Dead was lost in time, having been in the Great Pyramid at Ahm Shere! So obviously that’s where the Book of Amun-Ra is so we’ll go there, find the book, use it against Peter thereby preventing the end of the world!”

“Stiles,” Lydia called out sweetly.

“Did you know that the Great Pyramid is covered in gold?” he asked Derek excitedly. “At the top is a huge diamond-”

“Stiles,” she repeated.

“-granted it was used to lure people into the desert to die. Alexander the Great, Caesar and Napoleon all sent expeditions-”

“ _Stiles_!” She thumped hard on the table. He jumped, turning to her with a look. “No one knows where the Oasis of Ahm Shere is located, so how exactly are we going to find our way there?”

“You said it’s got a diamond on the top of it?” Scott piped up.

“Not really the time,” Lydia dismissed with a wave of her delicate hand.

“No!” Scott stood up and rolled up his sleeve to reveal the bracelet. Stiles had half forgotten it in the midst of everything else. “This... this bracelet it shows me things and I think it showed me the Golden Pyramid. It’s hard to follow it... and it doesn’t seem to show me things _now_ but back then but... it’s a start maybe?”

“It’s the best chance we have,” Stiles agreed, taking a moment to smile at Derek when he picked up a map to bring to the desk. He brushed against his fingers, covering them briefly. Derek turned his hand over and squeezed back, acknowledging the comfort. Stiles felt his stomach flutter in hope rather than fear for the first time in days.

There was a knock at the door and Lydia gave up a disgusted noise. “If that’s someone else looking to invade my home, I may get quite violent,” she complained, tossing her glossy curls as she swept out of the library.

“What was the first thing you saw, Scott?” Derek prompted quietly, letting Stiles fuss with the map.

Frowning, Scott was clearly trying to concentrate on the visions he’d been plagued with. “I saw a girl... a beautiful princess- I mean, the first _place_ I saw was... I think it Hamunaptra in its prime? Then it was the Temple at Karnak, I remember, I’ve been there before actually.” 

Stiles diligently noted the points, drawing a line between them. “What then?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t shown me anything else yet. And I only got the vision of Karnak when we were at Hamunaptra. Since this it’s just been the same vision of the princess watching her father die,” Scott winced sympathetically. 

“Maybe you have to be at Karnak to receive the next step?” Derek hazarded. “It may be a way to safeguard the knowledge.”

“That’s a good point-”

“Gentlemen, we have guests,” Lydia announced, her tone different enough to catch their gaze. 

“Allison,” Scott was already moving into the room to greet her when her father and Kate moved into the room with her, both holding rifles. Immediately Derek stiffened up, lips pulling back to bare his teeth.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, looking struck.

“We’re here for the Bracelet of Anubis,” Argent announced. “We know that it was taken from its-” he paused in his speech to stare down uncomprehendingly at Scott’s wrist. “You’re _wearing it_?”

Scott clasped his hand over it as best he could, looking defensive. “I was looking at it and it and it snapped shut around my wrist.”

Kate arched a brow. “Well, there goes that plan, bro. Now can we do it my way?”

Argent shot her a look but nodded his head. “It’s the only thing we can do. It’ll be like a beacon to the creature.”

“Anyone mind being less cryptic and mysterious for a moment?” Stiles piped up, exasperated.

Allison had the decency to look regretful even though she didn’t move to stop anything. “I’m sorry but we need you to come with us, Scott. Please don’t fight.”

“If you do, I’ll shoot you,” Argent intoned sharply. His rifle was aimed steadily for Derek, not even glancing at anyone else.

“Oh yeah? Well I don’t think you’ve taken into account Derek- Derek?” Stiles blinked when he glanced to his side to see Derek had gone white as a ghost, looking more like a hunted animal than a fierce warrior.

“Aww, didn’t you grow up all pretty and fine?” Kate cooed, with a wink, eyes roaming over his body like a physical caress. Stiles was actually repulsed by it, though he couldn’t pinpoint a reason other than the fact Derek looked like he wanted to crawl up the wall to get the hell away.

“Stiles, you should come with us. These Anubis-kin are not to be trusted.” Argent ordered him. Lydia was behind and to the side of him, looking thoughtful and maybe even a little uncertain.

“Why?” 

“Because it’s their fault the bracelet was stolen in the first place. It’s their fault Imhotep even became the creature!” Argent barked, clearly frustrated by Stiles’ incessant need to question everything.

“Are you seriously going to try to shoot Derek in the face for something that happened thousands of years ago?” Stiles demanded, itching to whack the older man over the head.

“Oh but Derek’s responsible for things that happened so much more recently, aren’t you, sweetie?” Kate mocked, tone saccharine. 

“Get out,” Derek finally found his voice, rough with something old and brittle. 

“Not without Scott,” Allison offered her hand to him, pleading. “Please, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“But we’re working to stop it too, we can help-” Scott protested. 

“Oh for the love of god,” Kate rolled her eyes and swung her rifle against Scott’s head. It made a loud, painful noise and Scott slumped to the ground, unconscious.

“Scott!” Stiles yelped, diving for him as Argent opened fire, forcing Derek to drop behind a heavy globe. Unfortunately for them, one of the shots shattered a window, letting the swarm of gnats inside the room. They buzzed so loudly it was hard to hear anything else going on and they were coating everything, threatening to choke them all.

“Derek! C’mon, face me!” Kate’s voice called and there was a wild shot that disturbed the hoard of gnats. In the brief clearing, Stiles could see Allison dragging Scott’s body out of the line of fire. Lydia was trying to crawl away as well but she sounded like she was in danger of choking to death. He hadn’t been able to see Derek or Argent.

Making a decision, he scrambled for where he had spotted Lydia, slipping on the bodies of dead bugs. He wanted to explain but if he opened his mouth, he’d choke on the gnats. Instead, he clamped one hand over her mouth to yank her further into the house. Hands grabbed him and Stiles attempted to elbow them before he was stopped. Turning, he peered into Laura’s eyes.

She wrapped both Stiles’ and Lydia’s lower faces with thin cloth like the one she wore around her own. “Peter is getting closer, can’t you feel it?” she pointed out, slinging an arm around Lydia’s waist as she hustled them out of the mansion. “We need to lead him away from-”

There was a hideous shrieking noise and the gnats burst into the air, swirling around Peter’s figure. He was fully restored, dressed (so to speak) in a long flowing black robe left open with some sort of loincloth beneath. The rest of him was bare, save for the triple spiral tattoo over his heart.

“What is that?” Stiles demanded, pointing.

Laura hazarded a glance. “The triskele? It is our mark, it labels us an Anubis-kin.” She would’ve gone on but Peter shouted something in ancient Egyptian.

“Is he calling for... Anck-su-namun?” Lydia asked, blinking blearily at him. “This is getting out of hand! Look what you’ve done to my house-” As if to illustrate the point, Derek and Argent crashed through the remaining window that hadn’t been broken.

Derek rolled to his feet quickly, fully shifted. His attention transferred to Peter immediately, lunging at him and snapping. “Keep him away from the bracelet!” He called out through his fangs.

“Right,” Stiles glanced at Laura briefly.

“I’ll get her to safety and then help Derek, go!” 

Relieved of that duty, Stiles launched himself down the same alleyway he had spotted Allison and Scott sprint down, hands clasped together. He had just passed the servant’s entrance of the Martin residence when Kate popped out. She flashed a grin and aimed- but not for him. She was firing down the alleyway, leaving him nearly deafened when the wall exploded. He didn’t stop- didn’t want to give her another, better target- and got clipped on the shoulder with the stone debris. He nearly tumbled to the ground but caught himself, scraping a hand on the broken wall and kept going.

“Keep running!” He screamed when Allison and Scott paused to look behind them. Black clouds curled up menacingly in the sky and Stiles worried if they could actually escape from Peter.


	8. In Which Hell Breaks Loose, There is a History Lesson and Flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at the bottom for a translation.

_Jan 23, 1933  
Cairo, Egypt_

Their terrified flight took them through the twists and turns of the back alleys of Cairo. While never very safe in general, they had taken on a whole new terror. There were people suddenly where they hadn’t been- moaning in pain from the boils covering their flesh. Half out of their minds, they clawed at the three of them. 

Scott managed to toss off three of them at once with strength he’d never had before. In fact, though Stiles hadn’t realized it before, he noticed now that Scott wasn’t having any trouble breathing. Normally running this much would’ve sent him into a desperate search for air, wheezing and lightheaded. But he kept running, yanking Stiles along with them.

Allison was at the head of their group. Stiles had never seen her like this; the demure, sweet curator’s daughter was gone- she was carrying a machete and wielding it like a short sword, slicing through anyone that dared to grab at them. When she lost that to the sheer numbers, she resorted to her body. One afflicted man attempted to strangle her but she bashed her fists into the crooks of his elbows, breaking the hold. Then she kneed him in the groin and delivered the sweetest right cross Stiles had seen in a long time.

“Did you know she could do that?” he asked Scott, panting as he shoved another mindless attacker away from him. 

“No. Isn’t she amazing?” he replied, eyes fairly soft and glowing as he stared at her.

“Don’t stare, keep going,” she barked at them, slamming her elbow against another attacker and then neatly throwing the woman over her shoulder. 

Their flight drew them past the museum and Stiles had a faint hope of getting inside and barricading themselves away from the rest of the world. That was utterly destroyed when six mummies in what looked like remains of some ceremonial armor burst out of the windows. And, in one case, through the outer wall.

Stiles was not ashamed to admit that he screamed right alongside Allison and Scott. The mummies howled back at them, inspiring new adrenaline to pump through their flagging bodies. From the way two of them immediately shifted into gaunt, terrifying versions of wolves, Stiles had a hunch that they had once been Anubis-kin as well at some point. They didn’t seem to respect the laws of gravity anymore than they did the natural order of things.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” Stiles insisted as one of them jumped from the building it had been crawling across with its claws back down to the street- closer than ever.

“It is, keep moving, towards the trainyard!” Allison called out.

The crowds following them were only getting bigger to the point where Stiles wondered if they wouldn’t just be crushed under the sheer weight of bodies. He was developing a stitch in his side. He could see the trains ahead and he began to question why they were headed that way. Did Allison intend for them to steal one?

“Wait, how is this going to help?” he called out as they approached one of the cars of the train that was already in motion. One of the large doors rattled open and revealed Kate with a feral grin on her face. He stepped back automatically.

“Up you go.” She grasped hands with Allison, hauling her into the vehicle. When she reached out for Scott, he recoiled. “This isn’t a debate, cutie. Either you get in voluntarily, or I’ll shoot your friend in the head.” A pistol was suddenly cocked and aimed between Stiles’ brows.

“Kate-” Allison look struck. 

“Not now, Allie. Well Scott?” She grinned wider as the wind kicked up and Stiles _just knew_ that Peter was on his way to join her. 

“Scott, don’t-”

“I have to go.” Scott shot him a worried look. He’d always looked out for Stiles as much as the reverse. Their whole lives they’d watched out for each other. 

“No, no, don’t!” Stiles surged forward. 

Derek’s body was tossed across the sand, bouncing horribly for several feet before he landed. Stiles scrambled to him, terrified. Kate snatched up Scott by the scruff of his neck and thrust him inside the train car. He could see Allison going to him a second before Kate slammed the door shut on them. There was literally nothing he could do at that point. The crowds at least had stopped pressing forward to crush them when Peter landed, parting them like Moses and the Red Sea.

“Really nephew, I’m doing this for us,” Peter crooned, examining his claws as his face shifted to a more human one. “I am going to restore our family. You shouldn’t fight me. I mean... unless you intended for things to happen the way they did.”

Derek flinched in Stiles’ arms, spitting out blackish blood from his mouth. “This isn’t going to change the past! Stop this now,” he growled out, pushing up but not lunging for Peter.

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear nephew. I can change it all once I have Anubis’ Army. Everything will be as it should be and our enemies will pay. Now be a good dog and lie down,” he grinned, eyes going blood red as he let out a howl and dove into the open train car. 

“Peter, don’t trust her, don’t-” Derek called out, trying vainly to climb up on the departing train. Kate leaned out of the open windows and fired off shots at him. She hit him several times but he refused to stop running. Only when the traintracks themselves began to pull up from their moorings, twisted and useless, did he stop.

Stiles was still staring, horrified, when he returned. 

“Where exactly are we going to get transport now?! Did you see what he did to those train tracks?!” Stiles flailed a hand helplessly at the mangled remains of the only hope they had in following after Scott. 

“We still have the camels-”

“Oh yeah, _the camels_ are going to keep up with the reincarnated Egyptian magician and his train of doom!”

“Stiles, calm down!” Derek ordered, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but Stiles threw off the hand. 

He didn’t notice the way Derek flinched, thinning his lips. He was too caught up in his panicked thoughts about Scott. “I am calm! I just want someone to tell me how we’re going to find my best friend before he helps destroy the world!”

“Airship.”

Stiles paused, turning around at the cheery little chirp coming. Behind him stood Laura, looking disheveled but more alive than he had expected, and none other than Lydia Martin. “Airship?”

“Airship,” Lydia repeated, stepping carefully around the bodies that had crumpled upon Peter and Kate’s escape. He didn’t know if they were dead and at that moment, didn’t care. “I designed it myself and made Jackson have it built for me. I got it when I called things off with him the sixth time. Allison is my best friend and you are going to need it to catch up with them in any sort of reasonable time.”

“You mean the one that helped kidnap Scott and is helping Kate and Peter kill us?” Derek asked.

Lydia’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but Stiles wasn’t having any of it. “No, no. I don’t care. Do not care. If we have to save Allison to save Scott and everyone else on the planet, we’re doing it,” he declared. 

“That’s if we can reach Ahm Shere before he does,” Lydia pointed out, examining her nails with a smug air. She glanced over at Laura and Derek. “Do you know what he means about Anubis’ Army? Since some of us aren’t as well versed in the apparently thriving occult community.”

“We aren’t occult,” Laura replied, pausing to flick her eyes over them. “It’s an old story. I don’t even know if Derek remembers...” She glanced at him but he merely stared at her in stony silence. Sighing, she waved them on. “We should get to the fort, our sister and our pack are there, waiting on me.”

“It’s safer than the mess you left of my home,” Lydia agreed tartly, swanning ahead of them all, much to Laura’s amusement apparently. 

Stiles wasn’t sure what else was going to be thrown at them but they weren’t even halfway through the plagues yet so getting inside sounded good. They didn’t have the time to waste, even if Stiles wanted nothing more to jump on a camel or horse and ride after the train, he knew they couldn’t do that. They’d die out in the desert long before they caught up.

*****

_Jan 24, 1933_  
 _Ft. Babylon, Cairo, Egypt_

The fort was deserted to the point that they had their pick of rooms to gather in. Laura filled in her pack, letting them know what to expect from there on out. They kept glancing at Derek, as if they wanted to go up to him and say something but didn’t. Laura must’ve asked them not to.

Stiles had no compunctions himself, moving to join Derek on the couch he was sitting on, hunched over with his elbows braced on his knees. He looked haunted, making Stiles touch his shoulder. 

“It’s my fault,” Derek murmured, so quietly Stiles had to duck his head in to hear him. From there he brushed his fingers up over his shoulder and ran his thumb over his jaw in comfort.

“Don’t be a dummy,” he replied softly. “You did everything you could. You tried to fight off a resurrected mummy. I find that to be kind of impressive actually,” Stiles leaned in to peck at Derek’s mouth but he jerked back and stood up.

“You don’t know anything,” he snapped, back to Stiles, completely stiff. “So don’t placate me.”

“Is that so? Then why don’t you tell me what I don’t know,” Stiles retorted, standing up to pull Derek around to face him.

“Il n'est pire sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre,” Laura broke in, finally having stepped away from her pack, giving them both knowing looks. 

“What?” Stiles blinked.

That caught Lydia’s attention, a look on her face that was hard to describe- as if she was vexed by her own surprise. Laura, of course, was giving her that same teasing smile she had since she’d met the Anubis-kin. “You know French.”

“Oui. I did study in Paris for four years at Institut d'études politiques de Paris, as well as some extra courses at École Normale Supérieure, mostly focused on political sciences, diplomacy, and psychology. Derek took some classes at École Nationale des Chartes because he wouldn’t mind living in a library all his life, but he had to focus on nursing instead.”

“Nursing? So what, the French Foreign Legion took you because you make a good field medic in a pinch?” Stiles piped up. Derek glared and refused to answer, looking rather sulky to be quite honest. 

The women ignored them both, Lydia’s eyes reassessing Laura. Not quite friendly- not with Lydia- but not that sweet hostility that was worse. “What are you doing in the middle of the desert if you’re so accomplished?” 

Laura didn’t answer right away, merely brushed past Lydia’s hip, hand seeming to touch the curve before it was gone again. “I could ask the same of you.”

“Let’s stay on topic.” Stiles interrupted, feeling slightly peevish for a reason he couldn’t put his finger on, other than the fact Laura had had more luck intriguing Lydia in barely two encounters than he had in his entire time in Cairo. Not that he was bitter, just... frustrated. 

He hazarded a glance at Derek but his attention was caught somewhere else, a regretful look on his face. “Anubis’ Army. I’ll admit that’s a new one on me.”

“Yes you did mention you’d explain,” Lydia agreed, situating herself in a nearby chair, one leg curled over the other, making it look like a throne simply by sheer force of will. “The airship will take another several hours before it’s ready to fly, you might as well get started."

“Anyone ever mention how bossy you are?” Laura mused. “Maybe that’s why Motormouth here likes you so much. Seems to enjoy that sort of thing.” She winked at Stiles,and he felt his face go hot.

“Laura,” Derek spoke finally, shooting her a withering look. “Get. On. With. It.”

She flashed red eyes at him, making Stiles scoot closer to Derek warily. “Fine. It’s an old story that we’ve kept to ourselves,” Laura admitted, staring at the ground as if to organize her thoughts. “The first Anubis-kin was named Deucalion. He was a man of vision that sought to bring peace between our ancestors and another tribe that they’d feuded with for decades, if not longer. He wanted to bring the two groups together, so he brought a small handful of his warriors to neutral ground, without weapons to meet the other clan.”

“Unfortunately Deucalion was betrayed by the other clan. They slaughtered everyone except Deucalion himself. The clan’s leader stabbed him through the eyes and left him to wander the desert, to die from blood loss or starvation, no one knows.” Laura’s lips twisted bitterly at the treatment of her ancestor but she continued. “At this point in the story you have the usual ‘he wandered for forty days and forty nights’ or what have you, whatever makes it sound long enough, and he ended up in an oasis. It saved Deucalion’s life, and he called out to the gods for revenge for his clan.”

“Let me guess, it was Anubis that answered?” Stiles cut in, jiggling his leg impatiently until a warm hand gently held his thigh still. 

“He came to Deucalion in a dream,” Derek picked up the story, hand still on Stiles’ thigh. “He promised to never forsake him if he would be his warrior for all eternity. He would be granted strength and speed and... well, you know the rest. Deucalion was the first Anubis-kin.”

Laura nodded. “And the place where he made the pact with Anubis became Ahm Shere. Our holiest of places, where no one may leave alive unless they are ours. I think Peter knew that when he took on Imhotep’s revenge. He can enter the Golden Pyramid and challenge Deucalion.”

“What? Is Deucalion just waiting for people to come by and fight to the death?”

“Stiles,” Lydia hissed. “What happens if Peter wins?”

Laura shook her head. “By the time he reaches Ahm Shere, he’ll have called down the 10 plagues of Egypt and he will become the Alpha of Alphas. He will be strong enough to challenge Deucalion and win the right to call upon all the fallen Anubis-kin to be his army. From there... he’ll be unstoppable.”

*******

_Jan 24, 1933_  
 _somewhere in Egypt_

Allison was proud of the long history her family had in protecting ancient and dangerous treasures. She understood their duty and relished the fact that she was doing something _important_ with her life. It might never win her recognition, but she didn’t need that. She hadn’t thought her aunt had either, but she was wrong. So very, very wrong.

“Scott?” she called through the door, pulling the slider window open to peer inside. “It’s me. I brought you something to eat.”

Scott shuffled into view, giving her a betrayed look that made her chest ache. “Is that another lie and you’ll bring me a plate of dust or something?”

“Scott,” she pleaded, looking over her shoulder. Kate was occupied elsewhere and Peter... she had no idea where he was and tried not to dwell on that fact. Juggling the plate of food, she unlocked the car door and slipped inside with him. “I’m not lying to you. I haven’t lied to you.”

“Except when I asked you about Hamunaptra,” he argued.

“That’s different! It was too dangerous, we had to protect you.”

He shot her a look. “Good job.”

“Don’t you pin that on me,” She scolded, moving to sit next to him. Picking up his arm, she worried at her lip. “I really wish you hadn’t put this on.”

“Why? Other than the fact Peter wants it,” he asked, shifting a little closer to her. 

“The Bracelet is leading us to the secret location of Ahm Shere, where an army waits for Peter to take control of.” If they made it there, she couldn’t imagine what could happen. “I just don’t understand why Kate is helping him do this.”

Scott slipped his fingers around hers, squeezing them sympathetically. “I don’t either but at least I can slow’em down. Then Stiles and everyone can come rescue us-”

“No!” Allison tightened her grip, feeling her eyes go wide with fright. “You can’t do that! You don’t understand, if you don’t make it to Ahm Shere by the next full moon... you’ll turn into a monster and then die at sunrise.”

“Oh...” Scott swallowed hard. “I better not get us lost then. But there has to be something we can do. I know Stiles is following us and if anyone can figure this out, he can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _il n’est pire sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre_ \- there is no worse deaf person than the one who does not want to hear


	9. In Which a Journey is Undertaken

_Jan 24, 1933  
Ft. Babylon, Egypt_

It took far longer than anyone wanted for the airship to be ready to go. Lydia assured them that once it was in the air, they would be able to catch up, but Stiles was still anxious. The extra day did allow him to try to find out as much as he could not only about the Anubis-kin but also Ahm Shere. What little was written hadn’t been verified in centuries, which left him even more frustrated than ever. Nevertheless, Stiles packed up as many of the useful books as he dared to.

Lydia’s airship was, Stiles was amazed to see, an actual ship. In the air. Lydia’s hand in its design was obvious. The gondola, with its high posts on either end and long, rockered hull, looked like an ancient Egyptian solar barge straight out of a wall painting which pleased Stiles to no end. An enclosed cabin took up the back portion of the deck, though the large glass windows, engine compartment, and safety railing were distinctly modern additions. Attached to each post were thick cables leading up to the long canvas airbag that held it aloft. A third set of cables came down the center to attach to the front of the cabin. It was tied to a mooring mast away from the airfield's main building, the workers scrambling around it on the ground showed off the relatively small scale of the craft.

“That’s not possible,” he said, coming to a stop.

“Personal airship travel, kid,” said the soot-covered mechanic rolling a sloshing barrel who came up behind him. Finstock had haunted the Cairo airfield for as long as anyone could remember, though no one knew who hired him. “For the aeronautic enthusiast with money to burn and places to be and no interest in rubbing elbows with the likes of the common folk. Not that I blame them.”

“But it’s half the size that’s possible!” Stiles exclaimed, waving at the moored airship. “Zeppelin’s first attempts were twice as big for the same amount of load and never managed the sort of distance we’re going!”

“I heard someone say something about vacuums when it first came arrived. Needs less room than hydrogen to do the same work, and you don’t have to worry about fire,” Finstock explained, trundling past, and Stiles jogged to catch up. “The Italians, they’re great inventors. Those Krauts running Zeppelin won’t stand a chance once this proves itself. Did I ever tell you how I got the nickname Cupcake from my old troop? It was when I had to cross the Swiss border, buckass nude-”

Stiles nodded with a fixed smile, trying to find a way to get out of hearing about anymore war stories. He actually wasn’t sure which ones were made up or not. Apparently Finstock had fought in France, Germany, Russia and Sweden. He developed a liking for pickled fish from there, because of course he did. 

“What’s the gondola made out of? Because that's obviously not wood,” he interrupted Finstock’s tale while edging away from him.

“Huh? Fiberglass. Half the weight for twice the strength. Hope you packed a jacket though, it still doesn’t do anything about the chill. GREENBERG GET AWAY FROM THAT! DIDN’T YOUR MOTHER TEACH YOU ABOUT STRIPPING LUGNUTS?!” Finstock roared as he stomped towards one of the mechanics, though Stiles wasn’t sure which one was actually ‘Greenberg’. 

“I think we actually managed to find someone that can out-chatter you,” Derek mused as Stiles turned towards him.

“Ha ha, Hale. No one thinks you’re funny except for you,” he retorted, bumping him slightly with his hip. Derek’s lips twitched as he reached down, hand skimming Stiles’ back, curving around his hip towards-

\- the heavy suitcase behind him. “Some of us have other talents to fall back on,” he smirked, demonstrating by hauling not only that suitcase up onto his shoulder, but also taking three other bulky, and no doubt heavy, cases of food with him.

“Geez baby bro, don’t throw out your back trying to peacock in front of the kid.”

Derek stiffened up and scowled as Laura draped an arm around Stiles’ shoulder. She flashed him a grin when his ears turned pink, but it fell when Derek refused to acknowledge her, stomping up the ramp. Her eyes tightened and she slumped over, letting go of Stiles in the process. She looked younger and more strained than he’d ever seen her.

“Uh, I’m sure he’ll come around,” he offered up awkwardly.

She gave a snort, lips curling up slightly. “You don’t know my brother well, do you?”

“Touche,” he agreed. He was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what he wanted to say to her when she simply started herself.

“It’s just... it’s so _frustrating_. I can still feel him, you know? I couldn’t before, but I can now.” Her eyes were locked on Derek’s back before he ducked into the ship’s belly. “My wolf wants him _back_. _I_ want him back in the pack. He’s been out here all this time and I didn’t even know about it. I should’ve been looking for him. I should’ve protected him. Why didn’t he come back?” she burst out, clearly having held it in rather than fight with Derek about it. 

Stiles chewed his lip. “I don’t know why Derek is fighting you, I really don’t. All I can say is... he thought everyone was dead. His whole pack. I guess maybe he didn’t think there was anything left for him?” He guessed, glancing up at the man in question. “It’s hard being alone but... if you get used to it... sometimes I think it’s scarier to change that. It was that way with my dad after my mom died.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully, but there was a steely look in her eyes that told him she wasn’t going to wait very long to let Derek decide to come to her. She’d go get him by his ear. “So that does beg the question how you convinced him to go wandering out into the desert to find a fabled lost city.” She arched a brow.

“Oh, _that_. It was love at first sight. He’d follow me to the ends of the earth. He’d climb mountains for me. Fight off hordes of undead warriors.” Stiles paused, a creeping feeling starting up his spine. There was also the pinched expression on Laura’s face, like she was trying not to breathe, eyes sparkling. “...He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

“What makes you say that, _darling_?” Derek growled low near his ear and Stiles shivered with something that decidedly wasn’t the reaction Derek was going for. He sniffed at his collar, making Stiles squirm and giggle.

“Just that warm glow I feel from your murderous gl- Stop, stop, that tickles,” he protested, shoving at Derek’s chest. 

“Honestly, do you need me directing you twenty-four-seven? I wonder how you managed to make it thus far in life,” Lydia snapped out. She was dressed impeccably, despite having just as little sleep as the rest of them with the rest of Cairo near to ruins. Her pale green checkered dress with its rows of buttons down each side looked quite fetching in the rising morning light.

“Actually we’re waiting on your pilot,” Laura pointed out, seating herself on top of one of the barrels of gunpowder, slicing into a pomegranate with her curved knife. “Everything else is loaded except this and people.”

Lydia cocked her head at Laura, giving her a look that Stiles couldn’t quite process. Brushing down her skirt, she smiled. “Danny is unfortunately unavailable. It seems he took a holiday right before this whole mess went down. Apparently Jackson convinced him that he should see Paris in winter. It is quite a sight, I’ll agree, but he’s only sulking about me breaking off our engagement for the third time.”

“What.” Derek growled.

“I said it was only the second but he insisted that the night I went out with-”

“I don’t care about Jackson!” 

“Who’s going to fly it then?” Derek demanded with a sharp scowl.

“I am, of course.” Stiles blinked, thrown by the answer. “May I ask what you’re looking at?” Lydia demanded, tilting her chin up to look at them all defiantly. “I don’t own anything I don’t know absolutely everything about and you lot clearly are in need of some level-headed, practical reasoning skills.”

She glared at them but Stiles merely held up his hands. “I have no problems with it, I know you are capable of doing anything you want and I’m not man enough to stop you even if I wanted to.”

A slow smirk curled up the corner of Laura’s lips and her eyes were drifting rather boldly over Lydia’s petite curves. She didn’t blush however, merely placed her hands on her hips, daring the other woman to come up with her own protest.

“A pretty dress that’s going to be a complete nuisance to you and everyone around you if you come like that,” she pointed out bluntly, stepping forward. 

“I beg your- _what do you think you’re doing!_ ”

“We’re all going to get killed,” Derek declared sourly as Laura drug a vehemently protesting Lydia into the airtower, sending the techs inside scattering. It wasn’t much later that they emerged. Laura looked smug and Lydia looked mutinous- she was wearing pants tucked into boots and a loose linen shirt that was decidedly not something Lydia would ever own. Clearly they were some of Laura’s extra clothes. 

“If Lydia didn’t kill her for that, I think we might actually survive,” Stiles pointed out, holding out a hand to help Lydia on board but she ignored him, nose in the air.

Derek followed after her and then Stiles climbed aboard as well. He hadn’t actually been aboard yet and he was struck by how big it was despite how small it looked compared to its balloon. Most of their luggage was stowed in the belly of the ship and he wondered if it occurred to Lydia yet that she’d be sleeping without the usual 5 star accommodations. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. She was busy having the techs cast off, the ship beginning to lurch into the air.

There was plenty that wasn’t shoved below deck either- gunpowder, boxes of rations and four barrels full of plain water, making Stiles paused. 

“It’s like a real ship,” he mused when Laura paused at his elbow. “Scott used to tell me about the ships at Alexandria. He lived there with his parents. His dad would sail from Egypt back to his home in Greece all the time. He’d be gone for months on end. Scott said the only times he ever got along with him was when he was getting on or getting off a boat.”

Laura gave him a smile as she squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll get your friend back, Stiles. Remember, they need him still. They won’t hurt him.”

“Not until they don’t need him anymore,” Stiles reminded her with a bleak smile.

“It’s not going to come to that. I’ll die protecting him first.”

A rumbling sound warned them mere moments before the ground began to shake. “What’s going on?” he called out, rushing to the railing to peer over. His eyes widened as sand began to bubble up in pockets all over the ground. That was bad enough, but when the Apshai beetles began to pour out it served as a horrifying reminder why it was so important for them to stop Peter.

“Finstock! C’mon, you guys can still make it!” He called out, throwing out the hanging rope ladder as the airship continued to climb higher. Frantic, he climbed halfway down the ladder himself, reaching out for him.

“Go! I can handle this! I was born to handle this! This is my time, Bolinski! MY! TIME!” Finstock shouted maniacally as he turned to face the swelling mass of beetles, having grabbed up a broom that was also on fire (for some reason). The swarm crested like waves, beetles on top of beetles as they devoured anything in their way in their search for flesh. The rope ladder that dangled from the bottom of the ship was just low enough to be a danger- several of the bugs climbing on and racing up towards their little gondola and Stiles himself. Stiles was yanked up by the collar of his shirt just as one latched onto his hand.

“My arm!” He screamed as Derek flung him over, grabbing him at the elbow, bracing Stiles’s back against his chest. It was a gruesome sensation, feeling the beetle burrowing under his skin, his arm on fire and more painful than anything he’d ever experience before. He was afraid it was going to crawl into his torso and dig into his organs, pierce his lungs. Derek took one careful look and abruptly clawed the skin of Stiles’ forearm right before the beetle’s path, flinging it across the deck.

The beetle was stunned for a moment before it attempted to race right back to their fleshy bodies. A glint of silver turned into Laura’s knife suddenly impaling it into the deck, halting it permanently. 

“Let’s hope that’s not an omen of the rest of the voyage,” Lydia piped up shakily from the wheel. 

Derek grumbled, one arm still loosely wrapped around Stiles’ chest and he leaned back against him, panting, arm throbbing in pain and bleeding. Derek was already tearing strips of cloth off his shirt to douse down with water while Lydia mentioned about packing a first aid kit. Glancing up as the balloon lifted them up higher and higher into the air, Stiles sent out a prayer to the universe that Laura’s earlier promise wouldn’t need to be fulfilled.

*****

_Jan 24, 1933_  
Cairo, Egypt

Digging himself out from under rubble from the Martin house was not exactly what Chris Argent had in mind when he went to retrieve the bracelet of Anubis. Nor had he expected to be betrayed by his own sister on the heels of learning about their own father’s betrayal.

Chris loved his sister but the fact of the matter was she was increasingly bloodthirsty. Chris understood the impulse to hunt, after all, their entire family was devoted to the cause. Even his wife was seeing to her own supernatural menace out of the country (thankfully) in Eastern Europe somewhere near Bucharest. But even at their most bloody, they never reveled in the chaos and they _never_ used the artifacts they collected. They were too dangerous. 

Shoving another hunk of masonry off his leg, Chris gingerly put weight on it. It wasn’t broken, just bruised to all hell and likely going to remind him of the fact he wasn’t twenty-two anymore. The fighting had died down, he assumed because the creature that Kate had joined with had left. He could hear faint screams and chittering noises that told him that the plagues were still in full effect however.

He had to focus. He had objectives to obtain. One, being the safety of his daughter. Kate was no longer someone he could trust with that. Moreover, he needed to find out if she was working willingly with Kate or if she was being coerced. The only way to find out would be to pick up their trail.

In the distance he could hear a howl and he nodded grimly to himself. Trust them to be on the trail of one of their own. Well, he’d follow them and deal with anything that got in his path in the mean time.

*****

_Jan 31, 1933_  
Somewhere in the deserts

_It was an honor. He knew it was, to be one of the guardians of the bracelet, but for him, the real honor was being near the Princess. He could never touch her, never speak to her, but it was enough just to be in the same place as her-_

Scott blinked blearily, confused that his Princess was touching his shoulder. She frowned and shook him again.

“-here, Scott. At Karnak.” The princess’s appearance remained as Allison helped him to his feet then disappeared after a few moments. Was Allison really the princess of his dreams? It was so hard to tell anymore. His dreams were now of people and places he shouldn’t even know about. Was it a past life or was it the bracelet trying to tell him something?

“Sorry, I just... I never wake up well,” he admitted, scrubbing over the days’ old scruff on his chin. He probably looked a sight, but it wasn’t like Kate or Peter was going to let him have a razor. 

“Neither do I,” Allison chuckled softly. She reached out to touch his chin when the door opened. Allison stood quickly, nodding at Kate. “He’s awake.”

“Good. We have a bit of a hike still,” she smiled, gesturing with her chin, a rifle sitting on her hip. As if Scott needed another reminder of how violent the woman was. He was surprised that when Allison opened the car door he wasn’t greeted with the sun but with moonlight. 

“How long have we been traveling?” he asked but Kate shoved him out of the car.

“Not now, sweetie, we’re on a little bit of a time crunch.”

Scott dusted himself off as he stood up. He’d been to the Temple at Karnak before, but the current circumstances made it seem sinister. The long rows of columns threw off deep shadows that made him jumpy. The wind echoed through them as well, making the torches flicker and the shadows move. He couldn’t tell if they were alone or not. He wasn’t the only one, the few mercenaries that Kate brought along looked spooked themselves. 

Allison was at his side, steady even in the face of everything else. It was comforting having her there and he wanted to reach out to take her hand. Before he could do so, he finally spotted Peter standing stock-still in the moonlight- or what there was of it. It was less than half full, though Scott couldn’t recall what that was called.

“The first quarter moon. Not quite as inspiring as the full moon but one does have to work up to these things,” Peter mused before turning to Scott. He seemed almost sane for a moment, like you could actually have a conversation with him. “I suspect we’ll be running into interference from-”

Before Peter could say anything else, spikes jettisoned up from the sands in front of the columns, barring their way further into the temple. They managed to impale one of the mercenaries, the gurgling sound he made from his throat echoing horribly in Scott’s ears despite being several hundred yards away. 

“That wasn’t here before,” he swallowed hard, horrified. He’d been on a dig at Karnak, no one had ever gotten hurt beyond the usual bumps and bruises.

“That’s a greeting to me.” Peter looked amused. He peered around until he spotted the slim young woman in the entrance to the temple. She was tall with long brown hair whipping around her face in the light breeze. “Hello Julia, how’s Kali?”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she pointed out, stepping further away from them as Peter waved his hand as the wooden spikes disintegrated into dust. 

“Well, very shortly, one of us will be.”

Julia’s eyes widened then narrowed and she let out something akin to a howl. She was answered shortly by a deeper, more intimidating one, then another, and another. Until the whole air was filled with the sounds of yelling and snarling as people came flooding through the temple’s arches to meet them.

“Scott, c’mon!” Allison grabbed his hand and bolted, dodging around and through the fallen debris. Out of the corner of his eyes, Scott could see Peter easily knocking aside the Anubis-kin. He grinned darkly as he lifted Julia up into the air with his magic and then flicked his hand. Her neck twisted sharply, bones protruding with a sharp snap. 

“I SHOULD TEAR YOUR HEAD OFF!” Another woman howled out in a rage, red eyes glowing. She shifted into a huge black wolf creature, her face distorted into a long muzzle with rows and rows of teeth. She was huge, easily seven feet tall, her clothes shredding with the abrupt change. She launched herself at Peter. 

Scott was pretty sure he didn’t want to see the outcome of that fight even if Allison hadn’t been tugging him further into Karnak itself. He paused, feeling his wrist tugging him in the opposite direction from where Allison wanted to go.

“Wait, wait! I think- I have to- crap!” Scott barely got the words out before his arm was leading and the rest of his body following. He spotted some surprised faces along the way but no one thought to attack him. Allison was running behind him thankfully. He just hoped he wasn’t going to be smashed into the huge wall he was being led towards.

He stopped right in front of it as his vision was flooded with the image of Karnak in its prime. He was watching a battle being fought- a lone Anubis-kin, tired, bloody and young, was holding off an entire regiment of warriors. She howled to the sun even as she died. Another Anubis-kin appeared before her dead body out of nowhere, his eyes wrapped with a thin gray cloth but Scott got the feeling he wasn’t fully blind.

He bent down next to the fallen warrior, ignoring the regiment overrunning her and into the territory she’d been so valiantly defending. As if none of them could touch him or affect him. His fingers rested against her throat and then she was standing again- or her spirit was? Scott wasn’t sure what he was seeing. The blind man gestured towards the east and suddenly his vision was being thrown somewhere else.

“-Scott? Scott! Talk to me! What do you see?” Allison’s voice broke into the vision as it faded. Scott gasped, falling over onto his rump.

“The Temple of Philae,” he croaked out. “That’s where we have to go next. But Stiles won’t know that! I told him about the bracelet showing me Karnak, but he’s not going to know if we leave before he shows up.”

An Anubis-kin leapt over a fallen column, interrupting them with a vicious snarl. Allison raised her gun to shoot him but something strange happened. Scott’s bracelet glowed and there was a barrier between them and the Anubis-kin. He was charging too quickly and knocked himself against it, halting in bewilderment.

He looked just as startled as they were before his eyes dropped to the bracelet. “Brother,” he greeted, inclining his head before turning to join the main fight. It was dying down, they didn’t have much time to process what he meant, much less figure out how to let Stiles know where they were headed.

“We need to leave him a sign. Something that he’ll understand,” Allison chewed her lip. “It can’t be something that Kate would notice.”

“Or Peter,” Scott agreed. His eyes lit up a moment later as an idea came to him. “I’ve got it!”

*****

_Jan 31, 1933_  
Somewhere in the deserts

Stiles was not good with confined spaces and had little outlet for his worried thoughts. He was doing his best, but Lydia had already cut their flying lesson short and Derek was taking a well deserved nap. So he brought Laura a fig as she stared out over the horizon.

“Lydia says we should reach Karnak within the next hour if the winds continue to be good,” he greeted her, handing over the fruit. She smiled as she hooked her claws into it, slicing into neat sections. She munched on the treat silently, waiting patiently for Stiles to speak.

“I have some questions.”

“I’ll bet,” she smirked, letting her eyes scan over the desert. “About Derek or about our kind?”

“Can’t it be both?” he shot right back at her, even as as his gaze flicked back to the man in question. He looked grumpy even in his sleep, fingers curled over his palm, twitching slightly. 

“I’m not sure I know who Derek is now, Stiles,” she warned softly, sounding regretful. He was reminded of the fact both Derek and Laura thought each other was dead for several years. He could prod at that, but it didn’t feel right. Not now in any case. Instead, he decided to ask something less personal. “Are all Anubis-kin born?”

Laura shook her head. “No. Some are granted the gift of the Bite. It’s a sacred thing to join our ranks. You become one of us and you’ll always be one of us. If we call on you, every Anubis-kin must return to their pack.”

Sort of like being a Knight of the Round Table but with more claws. He didn’t mention that aloud though. “Do you have any that received the Bite?”

“Yes. Three of them actually, you met them.” Laura dragged her hair out of her face, distractedly plaiting the black hair into a long tail so the wind wouldn’t jerk it around as much. 

“Right when you were trying to scare the crap out of us.”

“Well, you were in a forbidden city, kind of have to expect that, don’t you?” She chuckled, nudging Stiles with an elbow. “It was right after- after.” She paused, swallowing as her expression dimmed. “I had taken Peter into Cairo to get treated for his burns. The entire left side of his body was burned, he’d gotten Cora to safety and went back for his mate and children when he was overcome with smoke inhalation.”

Stiles winced. He could think of many nasty ways to die and being burned alive was right at the top of the list. Maybe Peter identified with Imhotep’s own death by being eaten alive. “I’m surprised he lived after that.”

“We’re a hardy bunch... for better or worse,” Laura murmured. “That’s what I recognized in Erica the first time I saw her. She was the blonde?” Stiles nodded his recognition, gesturing for her to continue. The sun was already set and there was little to look at in the desert. “She was in a nearby ward. She was dying from polio and could barely move, wasting away. But she got up out of that bed every day for the entire week I was there. She walked up and down the hallway even after she fell. I offered her the Bite the day before I was supposed to leave.”

“She’s not unhealthy now.” That was abundantly clear by the way she’d bounced around Hamunaptra, biting and swatting around everyone like they were toys.

“No, she’s not. She’s great, a little reckless, but I can’t blame her after the life she had.” She opened her mouth to go on when Lydia called out to them from the helm. 

“Karnak, over the hills there, and I can see smoke!” Lydia warned. Stiles went to wake Derek, but he was already sitting up, checking his weapons as they maneuvered into a position over the city. The train was stopped outside of the temple and even in the gloomy, it looked fairly deserted. There were also a lot of bodies laid out in the open. 

Disembarking, Derek moved to kneel down by a dark-haired woman. Her sun-bronzed skin had gone gray and lifeless where she lay twisted in the sand, her teeth were still bared in a ferocious expression. “They were defending this place,” he murmured. “They’re Anubis-kin.”

“Kali’s tribe,” Laura confirmed with a grim expression. “They’re not a weak pack. They had an Emissary and Kali was one of the most fierce fighters I’ve ever seen. If they can be wiped out like this... I’m not sure any of us stand a chance.”

“Question,” Lydia piped up, stepping gingerly through the sand. “Why were they here? Is this place sacred to your... packs?”

“Where’s Stiles?” He could hear Derek ask but Stiles was too busy looking for clues. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel anything for the people who’d died protecting the temple, but he was more concerned with keeping the living alive. Scott would trust in Stiles’ brain and he had to as well.

Holding up the torch he’d taken, he searched high and low. He’d go over every inch if he had to, Scott would leave him a clue. He just had to find it. He paused in front of a large, mostly-intact mural to admire the scene it was depicting. Some of the figures rendered were obviously Anubis-kin- clawed hands and dog faces, facing off against an enemy with superior numbers. Had he read about this tale before? It was possible-

“Didn’t you learn from the _last_ time you wandered off?” Derek growled, clamping a hand onto his shoulder to spin him around. 

“No, no, wait, don’t you see it?” Stiles grinned up at Derek, excited. He grabbed Derek’s chin and forced him to look at the mural. “See? It’s brilliant! I love Scott!”

“What’s brilliant?” Lydia demanded, allowing Laura to help her down from a column she’d climbed over. She took one look at the wall and nodded. “Well. That is clever. I never would’ve thought him capable of it.”

“What?” Derek scowled. “I don’t see it.”

“You always were shit with languages. Especially English.” Laura smirked, moving to run her fingers over a lower section of the wall. Scraped into the rock were letters- but they weren’t in English and they weren’t cartouches. “Greek. Nicely done.”

“His Dad traveled a lot between there and Alexandria,” Stiles explained, then glanced over at Derek’s closed-off face. “What? You can’t read it?”

“I didn’t study languages,” he retorted tersely.

“Nope, he’s more of a hands-on type,” Laura smiled angelically. “Derek preferred nursing.”

Derek looked as if he was seriously considering fratricide while Stiles bit his lip bloodless to keep from laughing. Lydia rolled her eyes, turning to head back to the airship quite obviously.

“While I’m more familiar with Ancient Greek than current, he’s made his point. We head towards the island of Philae. Hmm, isn’t it just delightful that one of us has transport that will allow us to get there without losing any more time?” she pointed out in a sweetly vicious tone.

Laura shook her head as they all followed after the redhead. They had no time to see the bodies to a proper burial unfortunately. 

“What about your pack? How will they know to find you?” Stiles asked as he climbed up onto the deck of the airship. 

“A pack can always find their Alpha. It’s just like they always know the pull of the moon.” She pointed up to the moon high above them, where it was slowly moving from the first quarter phase to the next. 

She and Derek both paused to breathe in. When he turned back to Stiles, Derek said simply, “What she means is that the bond is weakened or amplified depending on the phase of the moon. By the time we reach Ahm Shere, she’ll be like a lodestone for them to follow.”

“Wouldn’t Peter also feel the same bond?” Lydia asked as she guided the ship silently back into the air.

“Yes, if there’s anything left of Peter in him by then.”


	10. In Which a Lot of Mutual Rescuing Happens

_Feb 3, 1933  
Midair to the Island Temple of Philae_

The initial glow of finding the clue Scott had left them wore off two more days into their flight and they were long past then. They weren’t squabbling yet, but the close quarters were interesting to navigate. They had to sleep in shifts and then there was the discussion about who could fly the vessel. Whatever she thought, there was no way Lydia could make the entire journey flying by herself. Not and keep up with their current pace. 

From his position at the bow of the ship, Stiles could see when Derek finally came awake, letting out a little cute snuffle that is at odds with his harsh face. Stretching his body, the bones shifting and cracking, he took in their ship automatically before his gaze landed on Stiles. 

Derek stepped up to Stiles and he shrugged. “Lydia has finally deemed me worthy enough to fly it on my own.” It was actually exhilarating, if a tiny bit nerve wracking. “Apparently Jackson never could get a handle on it,” he added with a smug little smile he couldn’t help.

“Hmph.” Derek’s face closed off and he slouched against the helm, waiting. Stiles sighed.

“Tell me he’ll be fine.”

“He’ll be fine,” Derek replied in a completely dry monotone that pricked at Stiles.

“Gee, thanks, I am completely convinced now!”

Derek huffed through his nose and flicked his eyes off briefly towards the horizon. “He’s... he’s Scott. He’s capable and he’s been surprisingly clever so far. If there is one thing that you and he excel at, it’s getting around restrictions placed on you.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“Stiles.”

“I think I heard Derek Hale, professional man’s man, compliment me!”

“Stiles!”

“Sorry I had to bask in the moment,” Stiles flashed a grin as Derek huffed, but he could see the twitch of a smile on his lips and felt a little bit warmer when the other man shift closer. Lifting his chin, Stiles’ heart began to beat faster as Derek took the silent invitation. Their lips met gently, reminding him how the feeling shot all the way down to his toes. Stiles reached up to slip his fingers into Derek’s hair when he pulled away abruptly.

“I can’t,” he stated, locking his jaw and refusing to look at Stiles.

“Actually you just did.” That didn’t even get an exasperated look so Stiles pressed on. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just leave it, Stiles,” he warned, glaring down at him. 

Fighting off the instinct to continue to argue with Derek, he went for a different tactic instead. If Derek had something he didn’t want to talk about, he’d respect that... until they saved the world and then all bets were off. He told his disappointment to stuff it, and instead he lifted his chin in the direction of Laura and Lydia.

Laura was curled up in her robes, thigh to thigh with Lydia, who was distractedly plotting their course. “Are you okay with that?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Laura. Your _sister_.”

“She’s not my sister,” he retorted immediately, and somehow scowled harder. Stiles would find it amusing as hell if it wasn’t so stupid.

“Because there’s a lot of women out there black-haired, gorgeous enough to be related to you, and, oh yeah, an _Anubis-kin_!” He hissed out.

“I don’t know her, Stiles! She could be lying to all of us!”

“Yeah? Then why did you let her come along?”

He didn’t have an answer for that (as Stiles knew) so Derek did what he always did- slunk off and glowered. Lydia watched them both, arching a brow at Stiles, making him flush and stare determinedly out onto the horizon.

*****

_Feb 2, 1933  
somewhere in the deserts_

Chris took note of the new moon, the sky a black void interspersed with stars. It was vivid out in the desert with no lights from the cities to interrupt the vastness of the black. They were running out of time, he could tell it as easily as the pack he was trailing. They stopped less and less, which made it even more difficult for him to keep up. Still they had to, supernatural creatures that still bled and died needed to rest as much as any human.

He needed them to know he was there in order to get where he needed, but he didn’t expect the ambush to happen the way it did. The lanky blond boy sat heavily on his chest, head cocked inquisitively to one side. “Hey, Cora. I think this is the curator of the museum.”

“He’s an Argent,” the big black boy rumbled out, prying Chris’ papers and letters from his satchel. The brunette- Cora apparently- moving over towards him with a narrow-eyed look. Chris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Isaac, up,” she ordered, though she didn’t let Chris up off his back as Isaac got out of her way. She merely planted her hand onto his chest, fingers curved into wicked claws in warning. “What do you want. Don’t lie or I’ll know.”

“Why do we care?” the other girl muttered.

“Erica.” 

Chris arched his brows. “Could it be the fact I’ve been trying to protect people from this exact outcome for years?” he pointed out. “Your family isn’t the only one that’s devoted themselves to a cause.”

“No, but ours never murdered children to accomplish it.” Cora replied, jaw locked in a stubborn expression.

“No, you just take other children and turn them into monsters,” he shot back. He could tell that at least two of the other three were bitten Anubis-kin. He’d been a hunter long enough to know the difference in the way they held themselves, the way the power in their bodies was a heady thing to them, not second nature.

“The Bite is a _gift_ ,” she retorted through her fangs. 

“We can’t stop for him,” Erica pointed out impatiently. “Just kill him.”

“No,” Cora shook her head. “We’re better than they are, we don’t murder indiscriminately. We’ll take him with us, I don’t trust him not to shoot us in the back. Boyd, tie him up and keep an eye on him for now.”

Chris felt a grim satisfaction that his gambit worked, all threats aside. None of them looked happy to have him along, but he was hardly thrilled either. Boyd approached, silent as he tied Chris’ wrists together and helped him get back up on his camel. They had none, of course, but he wouldn’t slow them down that much on his own mount. 

His ears pricked up when Isaac paused by Cora. “What happens if we get there too late? He’s your uncle.”

“If Laura and Derek haven’t dealt with him, then I will. Better me than a stranger,” she replied, looking resolute despite her youth. Chris was not adverse to letting them settle it among their own, but he was not about to leave his daughter or the Bracelet in their hands.

******

_Feb 3, 1933  
on the way to Abu Simbel_

Scott wished heartily that he never picked up that puzzlebox and brought it to Stiles. He knew how much it meant to his best friend, but Scott was about to lose his mind.

Every time he closed his eyes, he was thrown somewhere else. No, that wasn’t it. He was an Anubis-kin in the far past. He had the honor of guarding the Pharaoh and the misfortune of falling in love with the princess.

The Princess with Allison’s face. 

Stiles had always scoffed at the mysticism that people liked to associate with Egypt and her history. He always claimed that science and proper investigation would explain everything that hadn’t been explained yet. Scott wasn’t so sure himself. There was no reason for him to have these visions. No way that he could think of besides magic.

And if magic was real, couldn’t past lives also be something that happened? 

He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face, ignoring the small camp.

Peter didn’t like to stop. He was tireless, but the rest of them weren’t. Although... Scott wasn’t tired like he should be, his asthma not making an appearance like it should be and he’d also noticed other strange things- like the fact he could smell and hear far better than he ever could before.

Just like he could in his dreams.

“It’s a gift, Scott.” Scott startled, nearly flinging himself over in the sand as Peter appeared. His eyes glowed vibrant red before they settled back into a more human blue. “I know what’s happening to you. That bracelet wasn’t meant for a human, so it’s making you more than that. It’s making you one of us. You should feel honored. May I join you?”

“Do I have a choice?” 

Peter gave a soft wuff of a laugh and inclined his head. “I have nothing personally against you, I hope you know. I have need of what you are wearing, unfortunately.” He gestured to the bracelet still clasped around Scott’s arm. He rubbed at it unconsciously, licking his lips.

“Why?” Peter’s gaze traveled over to Kate, watching the woman order her men to set up their camp. “Because of her?” Scott guessed. He hadn’t even known they’d been together. Had they? 

“No.” Peter shook his head but hesitated. “Yes. No... not entirely. She is... my _moon_ ,” His eyes had turned red again, face longing for a split second before he glanced back at Scott. “She is my Anck-su-namun, the woman I loved before and will have again. She was taken from me, just as my pack was taken from me.”

Anck-su-namun- he knew that story. Allison was fond of telling it to the Museum’s visitors whenever she got the chance. Scott frowned, Peter’s twitching manners were never how he pictured Imhotep. Peter’s claws flicked in and out, almost like he was struggling to control himself despite the calm tone. 

“What do you mean?” he prompted. Maybe there was an answer there? If so, there might still be a way to stop this before anyone else got hurt.

“Did my dear nephew not tell you?” Peter’s smile was back in place, amused and secretive. “Perhaps not, if he finally learned how to keep some things close to heart.”

“Derek wasn’t really keen on talking about himself,” Scott hedged. 

“And then there was that amnesia. It’s funny what a guilty mind will do to protect itself,” Peter hummed to himself. “You no doubt remember what I looked like before. I was burnt on over sixty percent of my body, deep burns that pained me constantly to the point I couldn’t speak or move. Do you know what it’s like to be trapped in your own body? Do you know what it can do to your mind?”

Scott had a good guess but he kept his mouth shut, letting Peter continue. 

“My pack was burned alive with the exception of my dear nephew and nieces. Derek wasn’t even in our village at the time, funnily enough. We were a hundred strong and then... gone. Because of jealousy and hate,” he sneered, a mad gleam in his eyes before he gave Scott a much more pleasant expression. “So you see, I must do this. I must make them understand that such deeds cannot go unanswered. I already dealt with Gerard.”

“Who’s Gerard?” He found himself asking. 

“The architect. Patriarch. What have you. Now he’s dead, carrion for the flesh-eaters. Once you help me become the Alpha of Alphas, I’ll be able to make sure that my pack will never be threatened again, least of all by inferior, weak humans. I’m sure you can understand that, can’t you, Scott? Just like a smart boy like you can understand that if you attempt to interfere in any way, I’ll gut Allison and then go after your family, one by one.” Peter flashed a handsome smile that made Scott’s guts twist up in fear and anger. 

“If Gerard’s dead, that means you don’t have to hurt anyone else,” he protested, having to at least try. 

“Do they not also deserve to suffer as I have?” Peter whirled on him, baring his teeth. “I will hunt down the hunters, wipe out Argent’s entire line! I will make the world tremble at my strength! I AM THE ALPHA OF ALPHAS!” 

His voice trailed off with an echo, Scott’s eyes widened but it wasn’t simply from the sense that Peter’s mind was fractured. 

Did this mean that Peter didn’t know that Allison and Kate were Argents? 

Or did it mean that he planned to save them until last?

******

_Feb 4, 1933  
still midair but closer to the Island Temple of Philae_

“I can’t even talk to you if you’re not going to be reasonable.”

Stiles blinked blearily as he lifted his head to see who Lydia was berating. Laura was leaning against the railing of the ship looking caught between exasperation and fondness. He well understood the feeling- especially as it seemed _someone_ had placed their blanket over him at someone and that someone smelled an awful lot like Derek. 

“What’s not reasonable about it? Science does not preclude the possibility of the unexplained!” Laura retorted.

“Unexplained? Ha! It has nothing to do with being unexplained, it’s just nonsense,” Lydia huffed out a breath, color high in her cheeks. It reminded him of the few times Stiles witnessed her and Jackson fighting. 

“If it’s nonsense, what is telling Scott how to get to the next point in this journey to Hamunaptra?” Laura replied, looking smug. “Isn’t it possible that the bracelet has stored knowledge of a past life that can be transferred to the wearer and give them the ability to return it to its rightful resting place?”

Lydia narrowed her eyes. Laura’s lips curled up in delight as she leaned in closer. “Or maybe I just like the idea of meeting you again and again.”

That seemed to mollify the redhead, though she did toss her hair off her shoulder. “You would only be satisfied with _meeting_ me?”

“How close are we?” Derek’s voice broke in from where he was emerging from the interior of the ship. There wasn’t much down there except supplies and a little bit of privacy for necessary business. Derek was wiping a cloth against his neck, as close to baths as they could come. 

“Laura’s trying to convince Lydia that past lives exist.”

“If they do, it’s penance for the wrongs done,” Derek replied quietly.

“Well now isn’t that a cheery thought.” Laura rolled her eyes at Stiles, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Derek seemed stuck on the notion of keeping himself apart from people. There had to be a reason for it. Laura had suffered from the fire that killed her family, but she’d chosen to draw people to her, not push them away.

He moved over to her, sitting down on the bare section of wood, still wrapped up in Derek’s blanket. She sniffed at him, eyes flicking over to Derek, but merely gave him an inquisitive look. 

“Why did you bring them all into your pack?” he asked. 

She sat back and considered her words before she shrugged.

“It’s instinct. We need our packs, they give us strength and we give strength back. Even Derek did it,” She pointed out. “Don’t you see it? You said you blackmailed him into it. But he could’ve busted out of jail any time or threatened you into giving him the puzzlebox. It wasn’t about that. It was about finding a pack again.”

“Not sure Derek sees it that way.” Stiles sighed, wondering why it mattered so much to understand him and all his bloody locked down bits.

“That’s because Derek isn’t as smart as I am. Or as pretty.”

“But he looks better in trousers than you do.” 

“Oh really?” 

They both laughed, though Stiles felt his neck grow warm. Part of him felt guilty for not being throttled down by anxiety every moment of the day. Scott was out there alone, at the mercy of two insane people bent on acquiring power at all costs. He could feel his smile drop away and told himself that whatever Derek was feeling, it could wait. Everything could wait until Scott was home safe and sound. Otherwise Stiles’ world would go dark-

Actually, it _was_ going dark. His head jerked up as Laura stood up beside him. The sky had gone dark, clouds forming thick and far, far too fast. He scrambled to join Lydia at the helm. “Start securing anything that’s not tied down,” she called out, the wind picking up and howling viciously all around them as rain suddenly poured down on them. He was already swaying from the way the ship was rocking back and forth but he didn’t expect it to pitch sideways suddenly. 

He went tumbling into the water barrels, soaking himself thoroughly, but he jerked himself upright when Derek yelled out, “LAURA!”

Derek had practically flung himself over the railing and Stiles scrambled to grab a hold of him. Once he latched onto his belt, he could see where Derek was clasping Laura’s forearm tightly as she dangled midair- over the river they were following to get to the Island of Philae.

“Hold on!” Stiles called out, grunting with the effort of keeping his grip. Derek’s arms were straining as he fought keep a grip despite the rain and the rocking ship. Lydia sought to keep them steady,but as if proving that things could always get worse, suddenly chunks of hail pounded down around them. Small ones at first that simply stung and abraded their skin but the hail grew steadily larger.

“We have to get out of here before they pierce the balloon!” Lydia told them.

“HOLD STEADY!” Derek argued, Laura slipping out of his grip a little more. “Let me go, Stiles!”

“Hell no!” He retorted.

“I have to save her!”

Swearing under his breath, Stiles looked around desperately for a solution that wouldn’t require martyrdom. His gaze finally rested on the rope tying down the barrels they brought along. Well, better to possibly lose some of the barrels than a whole person. 

Releasing his grip on Derek, he dove for the rope, nerveless, wet fingers fumbling far more than he liked and far more than they had time for. Finally he got it loose and then re-tied one end around two of the barrels and the other end around himself. 

Taking a deep breath, he simply climbed past where Derek was hanging over the railing, down the side of the slippery ship. He could see where the hail had dented the hull and was even starting to crack it. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Derek called after him.

“What does it look like, taking a stroll?!” He yelled right back.

“Stop fighting and save me!” Laura was already reaching for Stiles as he inched his way down. Her fingers were barely holding onto Derek as it was, they had no time. Unfortunately a chunk of hail smacked Stiles full on the side of the face.

Momentarily stunned by the unexpected pain, he lost his grip. He slipped painfully down the side of the airship, hands scrabbling for purchase at the still mostly-smooth fiberglass. His hand caught on a hole from one of the hailstones that had punched into the ship. It sliced into his palm as he sought to maintain his grip but he couldn’t. 

Then there was nothing but the sheer terror of the emptiness of open air and the river far, far below them. 

Something solid and Laura-sized slammed into him at the same time the rope went taut. The last of his breath went whooshing out of his lungs and nearly his lunch along with it. Over the storm, he could hear Derek swearing as he roughly jerked the rope up. 

"Fuck me," Laura muttered in his ear. "Next time we go by camel." 

“How well do camels swim?” Stiles giggled hysterically. They all three collapsed on the deck when Derek finished hauling them over the side, all of them soaked with rain.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” he growled out, yanking Stiles into a desperate hold. “You nearly got yourself killed!”

“D...didn’t,” he wheezed, lifting his good hand to pat at Derek’s shoulder before lifting his head. 

“Anyone gonna remember that it was me who went over first?” Laura asked, sounding amused, her other hand covered by Derek’s free one. 

“As touched as I am by all that, need I remind you that _we’re still in danger_?!” Lydia snapped out over the wind. The hail was coming down in sheets, battering the ship and no doubt doing worse to the balloon that was keeping them in the air. It took nearly all four of them to steer the ship through it until they spotted the island below them.

“We have to land now!” Derek yelled.

“If we do, we may not get in the air again!” Lydia threw back at him.

“I don’t think we have any choice at this point! Just do it!”

******

_Feb 6, 1933  
The Great Temple of Abu Simbel_

For all that she’d switched allegiances on the fly, Kate was finding that being Peter’s ‘reincarnated’ lover had its perks. Like the visceral feel of another Anubis-kin’s blood pouring out over her fingers as she pulled her sai out of his gut. The sai had been a present from Peter, to Anck-su-namun, although it was probably a test as well, to see if she could handle the weapons.

Kate had always been an eager student of war. “They all dead?” she called out.

She could see the tension in Allison’s face as she turned towards her. Poor thing. She was trying so hard to be what she thought was _good_ but really... it was so much better having fun. “Cheer up kiddo, it’s not like they’re people!” She laughed, slinging an arm around Allie’s shoulders. “Listen to me, I’ve hunted all over the world. I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe and at the end of the day, no matter how human they seem, they’re not. They turn into scrambling, whimpering animals in the end. And it really isn’t right for them to lie to themselves or us.”

“I um... I suppose I get what you’re saying,” Allie replied, twisting her fingers and glancing back at Scott. He was peering up at the moon and Kate had noticed it. They had tried to keep it from her, but it was obvious.

“He’ll be one too. Now, I suppose it’s possible we can save him,” Kate mused out loud. “...if we get the bracelet off in time.” 

Allie would be less upset if the kid made it and she was Kate’s favorite niece after all. 

“You think?” The hopeful expression on Allie’s face made her tug the younger woman into a tight hug. 

“Well it does depend on how fast we get there, but, he is a cutie,” Her lips curved up in the corner of her mouth. “Can’t really blame you. Some of them are so... eager.” 

Derek had been _real_ eager to please. Maybe after she got rid of Peter, she’d pick up with him again, housebreak him- at least until she got bored. 

“ _Anck-su-namun._ ” The name was like a breath on the back of her neck, but when she turned Peter was several feet away, though his eyes were glowing red and possessive. Adrenaline and anticipation thrilled through her in a way Kate could never get enough of. Repulsive as he was, she wasn’t stupid enough to tip him over the edge of insanity. Not until the time was right.

“I’ll be a while, get some rest,” she nudged Allison on, making sure that she was safe before she approached Peter. His fingers reached up and traced over the outline of her face, confusing in that he didn’t actually touch her but whatever got him off. She gave him an encouraging smirk that faltered at her eyes when he leaned down.

The kiss was decent enough and maybe she’d let him fuck her or she’d fuck him to keep him where she wanted him. But Peter surprised her when he pulled away rather than press forward. 

“What?” she asked when he smiled and crooked his finger at her. Rolling her eyes, she followed him into the interior of the Small Temple of Abu Simbel. There was a low pool, though she couldn’t tell (and didn’t care) if it was a feature or the product of centuries of wear.

Peter knelt in front of it and gestured for her to do the same, so down she went. “You are just as bloodthirsty as I remember, like a goddess of fire and destruction,” Peter mused, sweeping his hand over the pool and it shimmered and rippled until a picture resolved itself in the depths. She could see them- Anck-su-namun and Imhotep, she knew who they were without knowing why. Then she blinked and she was watching her own face as it traded scorching stares with Peter.

“It’s time for you to become whole again, my love,” he murmured, claws resting against the divots of her collarbones and Kate’s breath froze in her chest. He nicked her skin, making her want to jab back at him with her elbow and carve his fucking eyes out. 

His hand left her shoulder and her eyes followed the bloody nails as they extended over the water. Her hand shot out, grasping Peter around the wrist. He tensed up next to her- a predator coiling to strike at a wrong move. 

“Shouldn’t you be saving your powers up?” she ventured, looking up at him through her lashes. “Not that I don’t think you could handle anything Ahm Shere can throw at you, lover, but better safe than sorry, right? I wouldn’t want to lose you after just finding you again.”

Leaning in, she mouthed at his jaw and licked across his fangs, containing her revulsion at the feralness of his features. She could feel him relaxing, wrapping an arm around her- good, she’d distract him with her-

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Kate’s eyes popped open as her body was shoved down into the pool, water covering her head in moments. Her lungs burned as she kicked, hands grasping at Peter, digging into his arms, and thrashing her whole body. The cold water was a shock to her body but it wasn’t cold when it poured into her mouth. The water burned down her throat, her lungs ached for air. All she could see was Peter’s knife-edged smile and then everything went black.

*****

_Feb 6, 1933  
The Temple Island of Philae_

They should’ve been long gone from Philae. Finding the mural of the Anubis warrior and Scott’s graffiti was simple enough, but it was getting the airship back in the air that proved to be complicated. Lydia was glaring at it like she was going to start offering ritual sacrifices to bend it to her will until Stiles suggested she take a break, pointing towards the large sunken pool on the other side of the airship.

She raised a brow at him. “You expect me to what, go skinny-dipping with you?”

He held up his hands and Laura had to smirk to herself- the woman wasn’t about to be mollified and she wasn’t going to be manipulated either. 

“I was just saying you might _like_ to, since y’know, that landing left us all a little worse for the wear,” Stiles gestured to his own clothes. The rain that had soaked them thoroughly had allowed all kinds of debris and dust and muck to stick to them. Getting up off the rock she was currently sitting on, Laura sauntered over.

“If you’re worried about the boys peeking, I can watch your back,” she offered, all innocence. 

Lydia snorted eloquently. “I think I’d be safer with Stiles.”

“Wait, what?”

Sighing, Lydia gave an imperious wave of her hand. “If I must make do, I must. Come on- not you, Stiles, that boat, if ever was in the dock, sailed a long time ago.” With that she stalked ahead, assured that Laura would follow along behind her.

“You wound me, fair Goddess of the Nile!” he called out, clutching dramatically at his chest. 

Laura ruffled his hair as she stood and followed after the redhead. “Be careful and stick close to the ship. Derek will be back shortly no doubt to keep you company.”

“No need to make my mood even worse!”

She chuckled to herself, though she could see that he was growing increasingly frustrated with Derek. Not that she blamed him. The Derek she knew had been quiet and thoughtful but he hadn’t so... surly. He’d even been outgoing as a kid, but something changed after the fire. Granted, Laura had to admit that she’d changed too. She’d enjoyed playing with the idea of being in charge, bossing around her siblings but the reality was far more frightening than enjoyable. 

She actually felt somewhat guilty for flirting with Lydia while keeping an eye on her brother on their quest. She could’ve ordered any of her betas to be here instead, but... she’d been selfish. 

“You look more like Derek the more morose you are. It’s a shame.” Lydia’s voice broke into Laura’s thoughts, and she was surprised to note she’d walked to the pool without directing her feet there. A stack of Lydia’s clothes was folded up neatly by the edge of the pool. 

“I never had the bunny teeth,” she replied, slipping off her boots to dip her feet into the water. 

Lydia ran her hands over her hair and peered at Laura over her shoulder with a coyly innocent expression. “Well, they do work for him. He is impressive in a lot of ways.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not working,” she drawled out. “I’m not one of those little boys you’re used to toying with. I’m not at your beck and call.”

“But you come all the same.”

“So would you,” Laura shot right back, satisfied when Lydia’s cheeks flushed before she narrowed her eyes. It should not be nearly as appealing as it was, knowing she was getting to the unflappable Miss Lydia Martin. “Why do you play like you do? Stiles told me how you act normally and it’s got to be frustrating for you.”

“Because not all of us are capable of turning our back on society. Nor do we want to,” she replied primly. “I like being adored by everyone.”

Laura shook her head. “I think if it was the right person, being adored by one could be more than enough.”

“Sentimental,” Lydia accused, the water sloshing around her shoulders. 

“Bitter,” she found herself shooting right back. “I met dozens of girls like you when I was in Paris, you’re not the first little rich girl to be disillusioned by what’s expected of her. No one ever said it would be easy being who you want to be. What, do you want a medal for dropping the act for a little while?”

“Don’t you dare to pretend you know a thing about me,” Lydia growled out, rather impressively for a human. “I’m not disillusioned, I’m a realist. I intend to work with what I have to gain what I need. I’ll marry Jackson, or someone like him, someone that I can twist around my fingers, and produce or child or two to appease everyone and then I’ll continue to write, probably under a pseudonym, and become the authority on history and the evolution of the hard sciences. Once I’ve become a darling of the media through beauty and wit, I’ll divorce my husband and find myself in the arms of whatever lovers I wish while luxuriating in my well-deserved accolades.” 

Laura blinked. “You have thought it through.”

“Of course I have. I am not a simpleton.” She snorted delicately and dipped under the water to soak her hair more, the soap gripped in her hand as well.

She could see the life Lydia had laid out for herself quite neatly. And it was exactly the sort of thing that could satisfy a woman like the redhead but... it still felt like an ill-fitted suit. Laura hated the idea of Lydia having to patiently suffer through an idiotic human, the indignity of hiding behind his name or a false one just to indulge her brilliance in its fullness. 

When she surfaced again, Laura was thoughtful. “Satisfaction isn’t happiness. Don’t you want to be happy?”

Lydia gave a sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes in the slightest. “And I’m sure you’re _perfectly_ happy with your life, aren’t you, Laura? What with the brother that refuses to acknowledge you or anything about your pack.”

She didn’t have a response for that and Lydia knew it, already ducking back under the water. 

For the first time since she’d laid eyes on the redhead, Laura disliked her. And it was simply because she’d gotten to her like other people hadn’t been able to. Laura prided herself on being able to get beyond insults and frustrations. She was the Alpha dammit, and no pretty little redhead with barbed smiles was going to ruffle her fur!

Laura lifted her head as she realized that Lydia hadn’t surfaced for several minutes. She was human, there was no way she could last that long underwater. Something was wrong. Shucking as much of her robes as she could, Laura dove neatly into the water.

It stung her eyes to open them, but when they adjusted she quickly spotted the problem. There was some huge leviathan wrapped around Lydia’s body, dragging her down to the bottom of the pool, or possibly even further if it connected out to the open water. She had no time to return to the surface to call for help, she just dived towards Lydia’s struggling body.

Grateful for the fact her strength was an asset here, Laura let her claws flick out as she sped through the water. She couldn’t tell where the serpent’s head was, which was dangerous, but she had to get Lydia free before she drowned. She slashed her claws against the meat of its thick, sinuous body. The muscles under the skin, not scales, were thick and strong, preventing her claws from sinking in as deeply as she’d like. 

Its head whipped around to lunge at her, greeting her with rows and rows of fangs far larger than her own. Lydia was squirming free so Laura didn’t bother releasing her hold yet, keeping its focus on her instead. When it drew near enough, she let go and smacked her claws over its snout. Unfortunately she misjudged how heavy the monster was and just barely redirected its bite to glance off her leg instead of chomping her in half. It stung horrible with some sort of paralytic, but Laura trusted in her ability to heal. Otherwise she was dead meat anyways and might as well keep fighting. Sort of the Hale motto.

When it lunged for her again, she jabbed her fingers into its eyestalks. Blood immediately spread throughout the water and it thrashed violently, knocking Laura hard into the stomach. All her air escaped her mouth and water began to pour in as the monster continued to thrash about, looking to bite at whatever was in its way. Laura could barely swim with her injured leg and she had no air-

Suddenly a slender arm wrapped around her waist and a small body kicked with all its might to get them to break the surface. Laura swore as the water around them began to bubble alarmingly. She shoved Lydia away from her. 

“Get to the ledge, now!” Laura barked. The creature broke the surface of the water and shrieked in an ear-piercing register, head whipping about as it writhed in anger and pain. Lydia hadn’t quite made it to ledge yet so Laura dove down under the water again, the tingling sensation in her leg telling her that her body was fighting off the venom.

She was still sluggish in the water, battered by the leviathan’s thrashing, uncoordinated body, but she found its belly and dug her claws in deep. She ripped with all her might through the leathery body and into the tender insides. The water was stained red as she kicked with everything she had left to get back to the surface. 

Once she popped through, gasping for air, she looked around for Lydia. The redhead was sitting on the edge of the pool with wide, startled eyes.

Laura swam over, sluggish but pleased. “What do ya make of that? Slew the beast, rescued the princess. Think that might deserve a kiss.” 

Lydia’s soft vulnerable expression faded in the wake of the sardonic look she shot Laura as she stood up.

“Make me a pair of shoes and some luggage out of that thing and then we’ll talk,” Lydia tossed over her shoulder, water cascading over pale, peachy skin without a single imperfection to be found. Laura laughed, admiring the view while she could.

*****

_Feb 8, 1933  
Midair to the Temple of Abu Simbel_

“We should stop meeting like this,” Stiles yawned as Derek approached the wheel of the ship. They’d finally gotten off of Philae and back into the air. It was clear that Laura and Lydia had bonded over their attack, though he wasn’t sure if Laura knew what she was getting into if Lydia deemed her interesting. He wasn’t going to warn her -and he was sort of surprised that it didn’t bother him like it had to watch her with Jackson or Harris.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Derek’s voice broke in, shoulder brushing his warmly. 

“Just a personal revelation that I did not see coming,” Stiles offered up, admiring Derek’s profile. He was still incredibly frustrated with the other man, but when he was like this, quiet and subdued, it was harder to be mad. He still wanted to crack Derek’s head open like a nut though.

“I can feel you thinking at me,” Derek turned and arched a brow. His gaze settled on Stiles before he seemed to come to a decision. “You want to know what I remember.”

“I’d say something facetious right now if I didn’t think you’d stop talking.” 

Derek snorted as if to say ‘far point’ but leaned on the railing to look out at the stars. He took a deep breath. “It was about ten years ago... I was a kid and she was... I thought she was beautiful. I mean, she was interested in _me_ ,” Derek glanced down at his fingers and swallowed. “I’m the- I was the middle child. No one really paid much attention to me unless I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to. It doesn’t matter, I fell for it like a sucker.”

“You mean she-”

He nodded. “I was so stupid,” The self-loathing was palpable, and Stiles wanted to reach out to touch him. “But I thought I was in _love_ ,” Derek sneered, working his jaw. “She got me to tell her secrets I had no business telling her. I would’ve given her anything she asked...”

Stiles held his breath when Derek paused, trying to control himself. His hands were trembling and Stiles reached out then but Derek yanked his hands away. 

“I told her where we lived. No one is supposed to know. It’s to keep us safe from outsiders, hunters. It’s the one rule we were never to break. If my mom was alive, she would’ve exiled me for it,” he admitted. “But she’s not. she’s dead.”

“Kate set the fires. Derek, you know that you’re not responsible for-”

“Yes I am!” he snapped, flashing gold eyes at him, lips curled back in a snarl. “Everyone but my sisters and my uncle died! I should’ve died in that fire.”

“What if she’d seduced Laura.” Stiles’ heart was pounding but he refused to look away when Derek’s head shot up to look at him in the eye.

“What?”

He licked his lips and repeated, words stronger. “What if Kate had seduced Laura and got the information from her, would you hate your sister? Would you say she deserved to die?”

“It’s not the same-” 

“Why not?” he demanded.

“ _Because I should’ve known better!_ ” He roared and Stiles noticed out of the corner of his eyes that Laura was awake, eyes fixed steadily on Derek’s face.

“You were a kid, Derek! Kate _knew_ that! If you can sit there and tell me you’d hate your sister if she was in your place, I’ll just call you a liarface and be done with this conversation!”

Derek stared, breathing in rapidly bursts as he processed Stiles’ words. “....liarface?”

“Shut up.”

Derek snorted, lips ghosting into a smile briefly before he sighed, long and low. “I never forgot it.... not completely. It was always in my dreams.” 

There was something about the way Derek said it that gave Stiles the feeling he expected it to always be in his dreams too. Well, that was not going to happen as long as he was around. Turning to Laura, he waved at her. “My shift’s over, get up here.”

Not giving her or Derek the chance to react, he grabbed Derek’s arm and drew him to an empty spot on the deck. Urging Derek to sit, he plopped himself between Derek’s legs, not missing the startled look he gave him. Wiggling until he got them both covered up with a blanket, he leaned back against his chest and let out a soft sigh. His fingers rested lightly on his crossed arms and he fought back a smile when Derek’s own fingers gently closed over his and his nose brushed the back of his ear.

Nothing was fixed, but at least it was a little better for one night.


	11. In Which Our Heroes Are Running Out of Time

_Feb 9, 1933  
The Great Temple of Abu Simbel_

They were definitely running out of time. Lydia had already worked out that it the moon phase had a lot to do with when Peter’s group moved on from one ancient site to another. And if that was true, they had one last full moon, a blue moon, and then it would be too late. By his own estimation, Stiles figured they were on some of the last few plagues as well- pestilence and flies. Carcasses of animals and people littered everywhere they looked. Lucky for them, they were high enough in the air that the flies didn’t come for them as well. Lydia shuddered and Stiles couldn’t blame her, he could just imagine them covering his eyes, moving down his ears and throat to suffocate him utterly. 

They moved as fast as the engines would allow them but they landed too late to the temple of Abu Simbel. They found bodies there too, not just animals but well-armed men as well as Anubis-kin. While many of the bodies had clearly died in a nasty fight, there were far more that had no visible wounds. It was if they’d been snuffed out, no warning, no reason at all. 

“Something’s not right here. I can feel it, it’s like death,” Lydia warned, clutching her hands over her arms to rub warmth back into them.

“Did the dead bodies everywhere clue you in or...?” Stiles arched his brows.

“That’s not what I mean!” she snapped, eyes darting around.

“We should bury them,” Derek murmuring, kneeling by a large man with a shaved head. 

“We don’t have time,” Laura shook her head, though she sounded just as regretful. “And there’s no aconite alive around here thanks to the plagues. It wouldn’t be proper anyway.”

Stiles opened his mouth to ask about the ritual- one he hadn’t heard of, which had to be remedied- when Lydia let out a shriek like she was trying to wake the dead. And given the fact she had one of the dead hunter’s hands clasped around her calf, maybe she had.

Stunned, Stiles did the only thing that came to mind- he grabbed a rifle off of one of the dead bodies near him (also moving, now that he noticed) and clubbed the one grabbing Lydia, knocking its head back with a sickening crunch. Beside him Laura and Derek were shifting and let out simultaneous roars that were pretty impressive.

The undead Anubis-kin howled back at them, their voices eerily distorted. 

“Back to the airship!” Laura ordered, words enunciated clearly despite the fangs jutting out her lower jaw. She threw herself against the big, bald werewolf whose jaw was missing a huge chunk of it. It didn’t seem to stop him from causing her trouble however, his teeth puncturing her shoulder deeply. 

Derek leapt on his back and Stiles stopped, staring as one of the undead hunters lunged for him, trying to take back the rifle he stole. 

“They’re trying to surround us!” Lydia called out from somewhere over Stiles’ shoulder. “There’s too many of them!” 

“Bullets aren’t working on them either!” Stiles called out, eyes nearly as wide as the hole he’d shot into the hunter. He scrambled backwards, trying not to trip over himself, but knocked over a lantern, spilling out the oil inside. “We need something else!”

“Stiles, the oil!” Lydia called out, climbing onto a broken section of wall to grab at a lit sconce. It clicked for him and he pulled the lighter out of his pocket, burning his fingers when it sparked alight. The undead hunter attempted to grab his shoulder as Stiles scrambled back. He jerked out of reach, touching the lighter to the oil closest to him, creating a barrier between himself and the hunter.

Laura and Derek had their own means to deal with the reanimated Anubis-kin. They had taken to simply tearing off heads, as disgusting as that was. But even with the two methods, they were still outnumbered. 

“We don’t have enough oil to light it up in here and even if we did, we’d probably suffocate trying to get out,” Stiles pointed out as he thrust a torch into a goon’s belly, shoving it off the wall it had climbed onto to get to Lydia.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the entrance of the temple. They hadn’t made it more than a few dozen feet when four wolves flew over their heads while Chris Argent fired shot after shot into the attacking horde. Stiles stared up at him from where he landed on the ground. He’d been aware of the curator having a past in the military but it never really made an impact. Now it was suddenly much easier to reconcile the knowledge with the man in front of him reloading his guns with precise skill, wasting no time.

“We’ll hold them off, get out now,” Argent barked.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, let’s scram.” Stiles helped Lydia back to her feet, the sounds of snarls and howls echoing behind them along with gunfire.

With the four other werewolves plus Argent, they were able to stem the tide long enough to get everyone out of the temple. It wasn’t stopping the horde of undead- nothing but killing Peter would do that now. Everyone had to pile onto the airship, the added weight making it groan in protest. It finally lifted into the air when Stiles realized-

“Shit, we never saw a clue from Scott, I have to go back.” Stiles lunged for the rope ladder.

“Don’t be foolish, there’s still undead down there,” Argent snapped while Derek bodily got in Stiles’ way.

“Stiles, stop,” he urged.

“No, Scott’s alone out there, we have to find him!” he declared, heart picking up speed. He’d failed. All of this was his fault, and now their slim chance was gone. It was gone and Peter was going to kill everyone.

Stiles’ vision blurred and darkened at the edges, his chest constricting. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t focus-

Breath rushed back into his lungs when a lone howl echoed over the desert, making all the Anubis-kin turn towards the east. “What was that? Guys? What-”

“I think... I think it’s Scott,” Derek’s brow furrowed, cocking his head to the side as his hand slipped off of Stiles’ arm. 

“Scott can howl?” he piped up, bewildered.

“There was a theory that if someone not of the blood of Anubis ever wore the bracelet it would change them,” Argent pointed out. “That’s only one of the reasons it’s so dangerous.”

The Anubis-kin all rolled their eyes, while Laura moved to the wheel. “I can steer us there, I have a good idea of what direction to go in. I can almost feel him too, he’s definitely becoming one of us,” she announced. 

“What about what’s waiting for us when we get there?” Cora piped up. “We’re good, but we can’t take on an army by ourselves.”

“Correction, we’re _not_ taking an army on,” Erica agreed, holding up a clawed hand.

“We could alert the other packs and meet you there,” Boyd offered from her side with gesture over his shoulder back to the sands below. It would be risky, the dead moving around attacking anything living wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

“No, Isaac will stay with Derek and the rest here, I’ll go with you. The Alphas will want to hear from another Alpha when I make the call,” Laura decided. 

“You know what the last plague is,” Lydia pointed out, looking like she didn’t care but sounding almost hostile.

Laura peered at her with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Yes,” she replied, lips curving into a smile and then Stiles witnessed Lydia actually blushing. “Are you expressing _concern_ about me, Miss Martin?”

“Only concern what will happen if there’s no one around to lead your pack,” she sniffed, chin lifted up in the air. “They’re a motley enough crew as it is, without the disorganization that would be brought on by your disappearance.”

“I’ll be fine, just you watch.”

Stiles wasn’t ready to go that far, but knowing that they had backup and something like a plan was better than nothing at all.

******

_February 10, 1933  
Ahm Shere_

_He had failed. His princess is gone, lost to grief - the pharaoh is gone-_

_He brought shame to his family. They had to make amends. They had to hunt down the betrayer._

_They found him- brother- betrayer- sacrifice to appease for their transgressions._

_He offers himself, his family, to guard against looters. Against any who would bring back the betrayer. It is their duty. It is their fault. They failed-_

Scott jerked upwards, head reeling with the deafening sound of a howl. It took him several moments to realize that the sound had come out of his throat. His mind was still stuck on the images of bodies being entombed alive. Of his family- not _his_ but someone’s- being forced out into the deserts. Banished from their homes to take on a lonely vigil against any who would wake the betrayer.

He wished he’d never found that stupid puzzlebox. 

Glancing upwards, he frowned at the sky. It was dark but he couldn’t have slept that long-

“It’s the plague of darkness,” Allison whispered to him, making Scott tug his robes closer self-consciously. The longer he wore the bracelet, the less human he became. His hands were tipped with wicked claws and his teeth jutted out as fangs. His vision was impressive despite the dark, and he stared up at the huge pyramid.

It was different from the ones at Giza- it seemed less worn somehow (magic maybe? Stiles might not believe in it but he wasn’t turning into a monster either). The golden color didn’t come from actual gold, but it shimmered like there was something else in the rock. Quartz in the sandstone, maybe? At the top of it was the huge diamond of legend and it glinted even in the faint light. 

“Scott?” Allison had moved closer, looking concerned but determined. “I... I’m not afraid of you like this. I still care about you.”

He swallowed hard, hope blooming in his chest. “You do? Really? I thought... I mean, your aunt is a hunter-”

“I’m not my aunt,” She hurried to tell him. “I’m not going to... I couldn’t. Not you.”

“You have to stay away from Peter. He means to kill all the Argents.” He reached for her, wanting to do something, console her maybe, but stopped when he heard Peter move towards them, Kate behind him. They hadn’t been pleased with the Oasis slowing down their progress- a few hunters had been lost to the quicksand pits lurking in the beautiful jungle, but they’d made it through to the center where the Pyramid resided.

It struck him that Peter had probably been waiting for moonrise before he did anything else.

Scott stood up, his heart hammering in his chest. He had known that Peter was dangerous from the moment he was kidnapped, but the closer they got to Ahm Shere, the less it seemed like he was living in the same reality as everyone else. Worse, the dreams or visions Scott kept having made him see Peter killing Allison’s father over and over and over again. 

“It’s time now,” Peter announced with a serene smile on his face. Kate moved around him and prodded at Scott. The remaining hunters, few as they were, didn’t join them. Scott wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a sign of how scary it was about to get.

“Showtime, pup, let’s move,” Kate urged him on with a wide smile that was anything but friendly. Scott’s heart was pounding the closer they got to the massive pyramid. He wasn’t sure why- Allison already told him that he needed to get to the pyramid in order to remove the bracelet. He should be relieved, but he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen after that. 

“What will happened when we get up there?” Allison prompted Kate. 

“There are fifteen gates once we are through the main gate,” Peter replied instead, eyes fixated on the pyramid. “We will descend to the underworld through them and call up Deucalion, the first Anubis-kin.”

“Peter will challenge him and take his power,” Kate added. “We’ll be set then, we can do anything, sweetie. You’ll see.”

They climbed the steps to the main entryway, huge stone statues of jackals bracketing the gate. In the center of the gate was a carved wolf’s head, its mouth an open hole that looked as if it was meant for something to be put inside it. 

“Place your hand in the opening, Scott,” Peter ordered. 

“I... alright,” He swallowed hard, glancing once at Allison. Maybe if they were lucky, Peter and Kate wouldn’t care about them once they got inside. He approached the gate, an ominous hum in his ears. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, since no one else seemed to notice. The hole was set inside the open mouth of a wolf’s head, teeth circling it. He really didn’t want to find out if it was going to snap his hand off when he stuck it inside.

“Put it in!” Peter barked, his voice echoing again.

Before that idea could settle too deeply in Scott’s mind, he shoved his hand into the opening, squeezing his eyes shut. It was deep enough to engulf his arm all the way to the elbow. There was a loud grinding noise as the bracelet locked in place. 

Scott couldn’t focus on that because Peter was right up against him, his hand shoved into his guts. The pain took his breath away and Scott could barely let out a sound even when Allison called out his name in horror.

“What are you doing?!” she cried out. Scott wanted to apologize. He’d failed again. Just as he had a thousand years ago.

“Oh dear, did I forget to mention I needed the blood of the bracelet-wearer as well?” Peter’s expression was mocking, flicking his hand clean as he watched the blood pool into grooves front of the gate that Scott hadn’t noticed before. “My mistake, but really, did you think I’d allow something as important as the Bracelet of Anubis to fall to mere chance? I needed a sacrifice and Scott offered himself up as one. Truthfully, I expected it to be the Stilinski boy. He does love to stick his nose into things. Either way, I have business to conclude.”

Scott’s vision was already going blurry and dark when the doors parted, releasing his arm. He fell backwards and didn’t see anything else.

*****

_February 10, 1933  
Midair to Ahm Shere_

Laura’s pack rode with them a good distance on the airship to cut down on the travel time for everyone involved. It also allowed Cora the chance to actually interact with her brother and Stiles was glad for them. The other wolves were more concerned with watching Argent, but he’d made no moves except to check in on Lydia.

She wasn’t interacting much at all but it grew worse when the sun was blotted out, leaving them all in darkness even if it was midday. They had one plague left and it clearly bothered Lydia- it should bother him more considering he was a ‘firstborn’ but the fact was, if they didn’t stop Peter, he was going to die in some horrible fashion anyway.

When it came time to part ways, it was without fanfare. Unsurprisingly Argent did not go with the pack. Nothing on earth was going to stop him from making sure his daughter was all right. He hadn’t been exactly completely accepting of Laura’s claims about what had been done to her old pack, but he stopped meticulously cleaning every single weapon he had on his person (which was a rather daunting amount as far as Stiles was concerned). Argent packed away all of them save his main rifle. 

“Howl when you need us and we’ll be there,” Laura told Derek, enveloping him in a hug and then grabbing Stiles to do the same. “Take care of him,” she murmured in his ear.

Pausing before getting off the airship, she turned on her heel to face towards Lydia. The redhead arched her brows daringly, but there was concern tight around her eyes.

“If I ever needed luck-”

Before she could finish, Lydia threw her arms around Laura’s neck and pulled her in for a deep, no holds barred kiss. It went on longer than it needed to, and Laura managed to get one hand in Lydia’s thick red hair while the other cupped her curvy bottom tightly.

“Luck favors the bold,” Lydia declared when they finally broke apart to breathe. She wiped demurely at her thoroughly-destroyed lipstick. “Now, we do have things to attend to.”


	12. In Which There is Conflict and People Refusing to Stay on the Sidelines

_February 10, 1933  
Ahm Shere_

“It’s too late,” Stiles breathed out. The sands rippled out, blacker than soot, from the interior of the Ahm Shere Oasis, centered at the pyramid. The airship allowed them to pass over the oasis without descending into the jungles that stretched out around the pyramid for miles but Stiles wished the airship was faster still. He glanced nervously at Lydia, but he wasn’t about to annoy her now.

They all had a lot riding on the outcome (including the fate of the world, but that was entirely too frightening to think about). Derek and Isaac’s heads pop up as a howl rose up into the sky. It was quickly joined by another, then another, and then there was hundreds of wolves howling at the full moon overhead.

“It’s the packs, they’re waiting for our signal,” Derek assured him. “We’re still going in.”

“Look!” Argent barked out, gesturing at the sand. The black mass was writhing like it was alive, and slowly huge jackal-headed warriors emerged from it. Feral and wrathful, weapons clutched in huge paws, they roared out a challenge to the Anubis-kin. “There’s thousands of them. There’s no way they’ll be able to hold them off for long.”

Derek’s claws popped out reflexively and Isaac’s eyes glowed golden, their focus riveted on the fight below.

“Oh no,” Lydia snapped, waving a disapproving finger at them. “You two are staying with us! Laura doesn’t need to be helped by two more sets of claws, we need to get to the heart of the problem, that’s the _only_ way to end this!”

Even at her declaration, she still flinched when the two armies collided, howls echoing up to their ship. 

“She’s strong, she’s an Alpha,” Stiles assured Derek, who gave a sharp nod of his head. He would’ve said more but then the pyramid came into view, golden even in the moonlight. He could barely spot the pair on the steps but he had a sinking feeling about how still one of them was. “Put us down. Put us down, Lydia!”

“Unless you’d like me to crash, stop talking!” She snapped, even as she maneuvered the ship down. Before they landed, Isaac hopped off the ship and rolled nimbly in the sand to land in a crouch as if he dove off of airships every day.

“Sometimes I hate you,” Stiles muttered as Derek dove off as well, leaving Stiles to scramble down the rope ladder, trying not to tangle himself in his haste. When he finally got his feet on the ground (nearly falling onto his face), he had to race to catch up.

“Allison! What-” Stiles’ breath caught in his chest as he stared down at Scott’s pale face. 

“He’s not dead!” She hurried to tell him.

“He’s not going to last long, though,” Derek warned. 

Isaac had his hands on the bare skin of Scott’s upper chest with strange black veins running up his arms. Stiles had no idea why that was happening, all he cared about was the fact Scott’s face wasn’t pinched in pain, though he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“There’s got to be something- maybe the airship could-” Allison suggested weakly.

“No time,” Derek shook his head, swallowing hard. “If Laura was here, she could bite him...”

“Why can’t you?” Stiles demanded.

“It has to be an Alpha. And even then it’s not a guarantee. Scott could die anyways,” he explained, expression tight and regretful. There had to be another option. There had to be one. Stiles knew there had to be, there was always one, if he could just think-

Lydia and Argent finally joined them, Argent’s rifle held at his hip, though it dropped away so he could pull his daughter into a tight hug. “Where’s Kate?” he asked her, voice rough but his face eased slightly from its usually intense scowl.

“She and Peter are inside. He said something about going through the gates to get to the Underworld-”

“What?” Stiles’ head shot up. “What about the gates?”

She glanced up at the doors that were open just beyond them. “Peter said he has to go through the gates to call up Deucalion from the Underworld. He said that the bracelet-wearer had to die to open up the pyramid. I guess the only way you’re supposed to go to the Underworld is if you’re already dead.”

Stiles’ thoughts tumbled over themselves, hope making his heart thunder heavily in chest. Derek frowned at him but before he could ask, Stiles was getting up. “Grab Scott. We need to take him inside, hurry!”

“Stiles?” Lydia frowned at him and he paused as Isaac gathered Scott up against his chest. “What are you thinking?”

“The Book of Amun-Ra. It can stop Peter- I think- maybe it can also bring back Scott!” he explained. 

Allison was already moving back towards the main gate. Argent grabbed her arm, voiced pitched low and urgent- clearly not wanting her to go inside as well. Lydia reached out and snagged Stiles by the arm, stopping him from following her.

“Then if you know that, you know that if you die in the Underworld, your soul is lost forever,” she warned. Lydia was still beautiful and haughty and superior, but she was also concerned about her friends- and he realized that she cared whether or not he died.

“I know, but if I don’t try this it is anyways.”

“Oh Stiles,” she sighed, exasperated but sort of fond, as she threw her arms around his neck. 

“Hug later, we’re about to have company,” Argent growled out, handing over one last set of weapons to Allison, having lost the argument with his daughter. Oddly enough the weapons were a pair of sais and not guns. Then again, bullets didn’t seem all that effective against the Anubis-kin. “Lydia, get back in the ship, make sure it’s ready to go at a moment’s notice. I’ll join you shortly. If the Anubis-kin beat back the jackal warriors far enough, they might run towards us.”

Stiles didn’t hear anything else because Derek was yanking him forward to enter into the pyramid. 

He sort of expected it to be dark inside, creepy and filled with... whatever haunted the Underworld. But there wasn’t anything remarkably different from other pyramids he’d been in, except that the wall paintings weren’t faded or chipped. They were beautifully fresh, and he would’ve wanted to linger to look at them if Scott’s life wasn’t on the line. Speaking of which-

“Where are the others?” He hissed at Derek. He seemed equally surprised that they suddenly weren’t behind them, spinning around and sniffing the air. The small antechamber they were in was empty.

“They’re gone.”

“I can _see that_.”

“No,” Derek insisted, face growing more frustrated as he shifted. “They’re completely gone. I can’t even smell where they were. I can’t even smell you. I don’t like this.”

“Something about this place is probably messing with our senses,” Stiles paused. “No, it’s not. It’s messing with _your_ senses. Anubis is the god of the Underworld, but he’s also your kind’s patron saint basically, right? What if he wants you to prove you can make it to him?”

Derek did not look impressed by that thought, eyebrows cocked up high on his forehead, but merely rolled his neck on his shoulders at the implied challenge. “Then stick close. If you’re right, there’s going to be things in here that will try to stop us.”

*****

Once Allison realized that Stiles and Derek were missing, she took over leading her group further into the pyramid. Stiles had said that this might be Scott’s only chance, and she wasn’t going to lose that waiting for Stiles and Derek to catch up with them. 

She felt her way along the pyramid cautiously. Even if there weren’t traps, a lot of the pyramids were dangerous simply due to age and decay. Though this one seemed as new as the day it was built. She could feel Isaac’s eyes on her as she cautiously stepped through another gateway. They were already through three of them, though she had no idea how many more were left.

“Yes?” she finally turned to look over her shoulder at Isaac.

“Aren’t you a hunter?” he asked, voice brittle and accusing. He held Scott’s body easily, but Allison had her father’s voice, her mother’s, and her aunt’s, all telling her the best ways to disable him. 

“Yes,” she said simply, knowing that she didn’t want to be the kind of person who thought about how to hurt someone else before anything else came to mind. “And you’re an Anubis-kin, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work together.”

“I was captured by a hunter once. She stuffed me inside a very small metal box. It took my pack _four days_ to find me.”

“Oh.”

Unable to find words to say anything to him, Allison turned back to the long staircase that descended deeper into the building. There were huge statues of Anubis, golden and somewhat eerie in the way they stood like silent sentinels at regular intervals in the room. There was a long walkway in the center of the room and on the other side of it were huge doors.

She wondered how the torches dotting the walls remained lit for all this time (or if they’d lit when Scott put the bracelet into the entrance), but she didn’t think the answer would provide any comfort.

Nor did the teeming mass of Apshai beetles below the walkway in front of them. The beetles were currently clear of it, but for how long?

“Will they come after us if we cross?” she asked. The space between the bridge and the river of flesh-eaters below seemed woefully small.

“I don’t know,” Isaac shook his head, looking up suddenly. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear wha-” And then she did. There was a low rhythmic noise, like someone hitting a gong. With every strike the sound grew louder, the building rumbling in response. “Do you think Peter’s got to the last gate?”

“I think we should move faster. Look,” Isaac gestured with his chin, eyes glowing gold. There were cracks on the walkway that weren’t there before, and they grew deeper with every strike of the gong, spreading out like ivy. She nodded, urging Isaac in front of her, but as she did so, she felt something grip her hair tightly and pull back.

“Awww, where do you think _you’re_ going?” Kate grinned, eyes reckless and just... vacant. “You want a good seat for what’s about to happen!”

She didn’t have any other options. She had to face Kate. “Isaac, get Scott across the bridge. Now!”

******

Lydia Martin was not a woman who liked the unknown. She preferred sussing out information, quantifying it, and judging the outcome. That was rational. That was sane. 

This? This was anything but this.

She wanted to blame this all on Stiles. She had significant cause after all- if he hadn’t shown up at her door begging her for money and support, she’d still be in Cairo. They probably all would be.

Except Harris’ expedition would’ve gone on to Hamunaptra unimpeded, and she had a feeling that things would’ve shook out much the same. It was frustrating to think about but she wasn’t going to turn away just because she didn’t like following a thought to its conclusion. 

“How long has it been?” she asked, pulling her finger away from her mouth. Chewing on nails was a nasty habit, even if the traveling had utterly destroyed any vestige of her manicure. 

“Not long.” Allison’s father was always a terse man, but watching him sit there calmly made Lydia want to scream at him.

“How long is too long? I can’t take sitting here doing nothing!” The airship was as good as it was going to get without returning to a port for serious repairs. It’d make air when the time came, but that wasn’t enough for her. 

Argent stood up, piercing her with his pale eyes. “We don’t have to. Kate was traveling with hunters. They’re bound to have a camp set up somewhere nearby or in a clearing in the jungle. Less than half a day’s march I’d guess.”

Lydia arched her brow but something eased her chest. “I think I see where you’re going with this, Mr. Argent, and I’m very impressed. If you weren’t married, I’d make sure you were when we got back home,” she declared, missing the look on Argent’s face as she began to cast the airship off, readying it to take them into the fight. “We can’t help inside the pyramid but we can give La- the Anubis-kin some help.”

“Attack from the sky,” Argent agreed, finishing their casting off with a determined look as the ship rose slowly into the air.

*****

When the gong stopped ringing, the doors across from where Allison stood slowly eased open- and she knew they were the last doors in that moment. A huge scale was centered in the room beyond the doors and on the far side of the scale was a creature. Allison was pretty sure she recognized it from scrolls and pieces of pottery, the name escaping her. 

Its body was thick and solid like a hippo, but the feet had wicked claws at the end and they were shaped more like lion’s paws than anything else. There was also a thin, tuffed tail that lashed back and forth as it waited. The head was the worst though, the snout long and leathery like a crocodile and had the fangs to match, rows and rows of them gleaming wickedly in the torchlight. The beady red eyes stared at them, unwavering.

“Well, looks like we have a bonafide monster. Wouldn’t that look good mounted on a wall somewhere?” Kate mocked, reminding Allison she didn’t have time to look around, to watch Isaac carry Scott to safety. She had to get free but keep Kate’s attention on her. 

Something inside Allison rallied, knowing that she was the only one who could help now. She kicked her leg up, forcing Kate to break her hold when it connected. She turned to face Kate, who stumbled back, laughing. “What’s this?”

“I’m not going to let you hurt anyone else,” Allison declared, pulling out her twin sais from their holsters. Kate’s brows went up, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Still, she moved over to the wall and plucked a pair of sais from the statue’s hands, twirling them in her grip.

“You want to go there? Alright,” Kate laughed and launched herself at Allison. Their sais clashed and bounced off each other. No matter how hard Allison tried to get past Kate’s guard, she couldn’t. Kate’s sais were already there, twisting aside her attack, or throwing her back completely. She was laughing too, fevered eyes gleaming with the violence. 

She turned the offensive back on Allison, sais stabbing downwards and nearly forced her down on one knee. Throwing Kate off, she pushed forward again. Their sais struck again but Kate twisted with the movement and dragged Allison’s foot out from underneath her.

On the ground, Allison pushed up immediately on her elbows. 

Kate was twirling her sais again. “You never could beat me.”

“It never was real before.”

“Oh don’t you know? Nothing’s really real. All this... it’s just a story. Nothing to get upset over, we just play our parts,” Kate laughed again, switching her sais to one hand when Allison flipped back to a standing, taunting her with a ‘come’ gesture.

*****

“We can’t stay here any longer, I can hear fighting!” Derek growled, pacing back and forth while Stiles continued to mutter under his breath. His fingers flew over the script imprinted on the wall.

“If you can still hear it, that means Peter and Kate haven’t killed everyone yet, shhh,” Stiles ordered, not even glancing away from the text. The Book of Amun-Ra was the only chance they had to cut Peter’s power down before he took on Deucalion. 

“Stiles-”

“I’ve almost got it-”

“Stiles!”

“The Book of Amun-Ra is under the statue of Horus in the next chamber! Ha!” He pumped his fist, grinning broadly. 

“Great, now run!” Derek grabbed Stiles’ elbow and yanked him out of the room. Stiles barely had time to witness awakened mummies surge up through the ground and pop out of seemingly random alcoves. Eerie howls rang out around them and Stiles bleakly wondered how many mummies were in the pyramid. 

“Sounding the gong must have woken up _everything_ in here,” Stiles guessed, scrambling to glance at the walls, to try and guide their flight through the corridors. “Hold them off, I have to get the book!”

“Hold them off, sure, of course,” Derek gritted his teeth but turned and roared at the mummies. 

They roared back, but Derek was already launching himself at them. Stiles didn’t spare a moment to be touched by his trust, he just made sure it wasn’t unfounded. The statue was huge but at least it was intact, making crawling under it simple. The compartment didn’t have a lock, it simply slid free of the base smoothly. Inside was a carved wooden box.

Inside that was the golden Book of Amun-Ra. “Derek! Derek, I’ve got it!”

In response Derek flew across the room and smacked into a wall, landing in a heap. Stiles yelped and scrambled towards him, book clutched tightly to his chest. 

“I found Peter.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and Stiles felt a stare crawling up his spine before he turned.

Peter smiled at them serenely as he licked Derek’s blood off his claws, spattered with it over his face and chest. Stiles noticed that his creepy red eyes were not focused completely on anyone in the room. 

“Dear, dear nephew, you know I’m doing this for us. For all of us. We’re a dying breed unless we even the scales,” he pointed out. He turned to Stiles, offering a clawed hand. “Give me the book.”

“I’m going to go with no.” Stiles was shaking but he could feel Derek shifting into a crouch beside him. He met his eyes and knew what they were going to do. 

“Pity. I liked you.” 

Peter roared, and Stiles bolted as Derek threw himself into Peter’s path. He didn’t want to leave Derek, but they both knew this was the only chance they had to stop Peter. Stiles needed time to find the right spell.


	13. In Which Our Heroes Make Their Stand

_February 10, 1933  
Deserts outside of Ahm Shere Oasis_

“You better get a date if we live through all of this!” Erica shouted over the roars of the undead Anubis-kin that they were trying to hold back. It wasn’t going well, despite how easy it was to dispatch them into piles of black sand, their sheer numbers were going to win the battle for them.

This was just to stall the army, a last bid. She knew it, as did her pack. Laura didn’t have to tell them this was futile because they would all fight anyways. She knew it of her pack. “I have two points to make- one, I’m the Alpha.” She ducked the swing of a clawed hand and drove her own claws up into her attacker’s ribcage. Where there should’ve been blood there was only a pile of sand in her grip and the warrior exploded. “And two, I’m letting you and Boyd make time with my baby sister.”

“Laura!” Cora was on top of the shoulders of a huge undead female. With a fast motion she slicked her claws through her neck. Her sister dropped into a roll when the warrior exploded in a puff of sand, just like Derek had taught her. 

“You’re less discreet than _Derek_ , Cora.” 

“She has a point,” Boyd rumbled, looking exhausted but with humor and affection in his warm eyes gone gold with all the fighting. He grabbed two undead by their scruffs and smashed their heads together. 

“That was one time! One! Time! I hate all of you.”

Erica let out a cackling laugh, ducking under a swinging blow, a tangle of long blonde hair glinting in the moonlight. “But me least, because I have a great set of-”

“Erica-” Cora growled.

“Claws,” She finished, looking smug as she flexed said claws in demonstration. Laura chuckled, but then a gunshot rang out from the jungle and all mirth faded from her heart. She glanced down the line so she could see how the other packs were doing. They’d been fighting for hours, dawn would be coming soon.

Undead didn’t need rest. Undead couldn’t drop from exhaustion or the pain of losing a packmate.

With that, Laura tilted her head back and gave a bone-rattling roar of challenge, which echoed down the line from every Anubis-kin there.

They would keep fighting. To the last of them.

****

_February 10, 1933  
Inside Ahm Shere_

Fleeing from Peter didn’t stop the reanimated mummies. In fact, without Derek to slow them down, Stiles was worried he wouldn’t make it to the interior of the pyramid in time. His heart was stuck in his throat as the noises behind him grew steadily louder. He refused to glance back, knowing that there was a horde of angry, armed mummies with chunks of flesh missing and unrelenting stares from their eyeless sockets. He pushed himself to go faster, careening through the halls. He passed through gate after gate with only moments to see if he was headed in the right direction. 

He tumbled through another gateway in time to watch Kate throw Allison to the ground. She stabbed downwards in what should’ve been a killing blow, but Allison flipped out of reach. As she rolled, she retrieved sais that had been scattered on the ground, looking bloodied but determined.

He tore past them, the mummies still hot on his heels as he moved onto the walkway. It trembled underneath him as he ran and started to collapse, chunks of stone hitting the river of Apshai below. Bigger and bigger blocks began to fall away, leaving him no other choice but to leap the final few feet. He caught himself on the ledge, his ribs protesting the impact, and he kicked frantically to find purchase. 

He could hear the mummies fall into the pit of beetles, being torn apart, as his grip on the ledge began to slip. The ring of sais didn’t slow a bit; Allison and Kate hadn’t paused in their fight for a moment. 

“How did you get here?!” Isaac grabbed Stiles off the ledge, pulling him up by his forearms, his shifted form showing that he was ready for a fight.

“Uh, I know ancient Egyptian, I read the directions,” Stiles quipped, glancing back at the fight across from them, despite knowing he didn’t have the time. Kate kicked at Allison’s knee, but even as she went to the ground, her sais never stopped. She met Kate’s blows and returned them, slicing through the air. 

“Stiles, forget that,” Isaac tugged on Stiles’ arm hard, and turned him to look in the opposite direction. “What is that?!”

He stared at the huge monster, gulping. “Ammit the Devourer. It will only move when a soul has been judged unworthy.” 

Stiles was fairly certain in any case- studying wall paintings and pottery didn’t really lend itself to identifying actual three-dimensional denizens of the Underworld. Then he paused, mouth hanging open. “That’s it! Isaac, put Scott on the scale!”

“Are you crazy?! I’m not getting near anything called _‘the Devourer’_!”

“JUST DO IT!” Stiles bellowed. Isaac glared but scooped up Scott in his arms. Turning back to the book, Stiles bit his lip, trying to assure himself he was doing the right thing. It was a gamble, no two ways about it. 

Across the way, Allison’s arms shook as her sais braced Kate’s away from her body. Kate used her strength to force Allison against a statue, breath slammed out of her with the impact. 

“You don’t have to do this. You can still walk away from this,” Allison tried, keeping her sais in place as the weapons grated against each other.

Kate laughed, smearing a kiss to Allison’s cheek. “Are you kidding me? This is the endgame! Once Peter brings out Deucalion and kills him, I’ll kill Peter and take his power. Isn’t that perfect? I’ll wipe out all the Anubis-kin, not just a pack here and there, hiding behind fires and hunting trips, but the whole line of whelps in one fell swoop. Well, maybe I’ll keep Derek around on a leash. He always was my favorite, the little dear.” She laughed harshly. “I might let you keep Scott too, show you how to break a bitch.”

Narrowing her eyes, Allison abruptly slammed her head forward against the bridge of Kate’s nose, causing her to step back with the force of the impact. Allison’s own head was killing her but at least she was free again.

“Anck-su-namun?” Peter stood at the top of the stairs that led down to the fight, his voice shaded with hurt and betrayal, eyes glowing red again. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not _fucking_ Anck-su-namun, you psycho!” Kate burst out, sneering. “You put... whatever it was, her _soul_ , in me but I’m not her! I can’t stand you,” she spit out, baring her teeth in an ugly grin. “You’re pathetic, panting after a bitch that’s been dead for 3,000 years! A worthless animal that I’ll be happy to put down!”

A shadow passed over Peter’s face at her words, lip twitching up involuntarily. They all stopped, however, as a creaking noise alerted them to Scott’s body being placed on one side of the huge scale. He was deathly pale, and Stiles was afraid that it was too late. 

A glow surrounded Scott as a feather- the feather of Maat- drifted slowly, painfully slowly, onto the opposite scale from Scott. Everyone- every _thing_ including Ammit- stopped to wait for the judgment. 

Terrified, Stiles had to look away. Pulling out the key, he unlocked the Book of Amun-Ra and skimmed over the interior as quickly as he could. He had to translate the spell inside still. Peter wasn’t going to care if Scott was brought back to life. 

“Stiles-”

“Not now.”

“Deucalion’s here,” Isaac told him, bumping Stiles’ shoulder and forcing him to look up. 

Behind Ammit stood a man bathed in a golden light from... something beyond him. A portal or something more than he could explain. Maybe it was the true gate to the Underworld. Deucalion appeared to be waiting for the feather to come to rest on the scale. 

The scales moved, swaying up and down, Stiles’ heart along with them. Deucalion gave nothing away in his face, even though he had the fate of Scott’s soul in the palm of his hand. He didn’t appear strange or otherworldly; he wasn’t even fanged or clawed like the Anubis-kin. The only thing notable about Deucalion was the simple cloth wrapped around his eyes as if he was blind.

He knelt by Scott and touched his chest over his heart. “Maat....kheru,” he declared, smiling down at Scott. 

Light glowed all around Scott’s body, too painful to look at, and Stiles shielded his eyes with the book. When it died away and he stopped seeing spots, he saw something much worse.

Peter was striding across the Apshai river, repelling them like Moses crossing the Nile as he made a determined path for Deucalion. “ _I challenge!_ ” He called out in Egyptian, which niggled something in Stiles’ brain. 

Kate bolted after Peter with a short curse, knocking Allison over to do so. Even with the walkway broken into huge chunks, Kate was traversing it fine. She jumped from section to section, even as they swayed precariously, and the beetles chittered hungrily below. 

Stiles tore his attention away to focus. If Peter knew Egyptian, why had he needed Stiles to translate the book? 

“Stiles?” Scott’s voice was a welcome relief.

“Sorry buddy, hold that thought, I have a theory,” he flipped the Book of Amun-Ra back open and found the spell he was looking for. 

“ _Kadeesh mal, kadeesh mal, pared oos, pared oos_!” Stiles recited, head snapping up to stare Peter in the face. 

Peter’s eyes flickered red to blue and then back to red, his body convulsing like it was fighting off the spell, his form shifting back and forth from human to Anubis-kin. It didn’t matter- the soul of Imhotep was ripped out of Peter’s body- pouring out of his mouth in a black muck like an oil spill. From that a blueish light rose up from the mess and snarled its rage. Imhotep’s soul was drawn back towards the glowing portal as Peter dropped to the ground. The scars he’d had before burned themselves anew across his body. 

“Don’t think that will stop me, boy!” Peter’s voice was fully his now, though weaker, and he seemed in pain as he stood up. His gait was uneven as he moved towards Deucalion, who hadn’t moved from his position at the scales.

“Peter!” Derek called out, startling everyone. He was still on the top of the stairs at the entrance. Even with his strength and speed, he was not going to make it to their side of the walkway to prevent anything from happening. 

Stiles hustled Isaac over to the other side of the scale to help get Scott off of it before they were caught in the line of fire. Ammit, despite how close they skirted to her presence, still made no move towards them. She was as still as a statue. 

“-listen to me!” Derek called out, jumping across the chunks of the stone walkway, swaying dangerously to hold his balance. “You know we were betrayed. It was me, Peter! Kate seduced me and I was the one who led her to our pack! This won’t bring them back! They’re gone, they’re all gone!” 

That did stop Peter in his tracks, and Kate sneered. “Fine, you wanna choke at the finish line, I’ll do it myself!” She snarled and lunged for Deucalion, sai poised to stab him in the chest. 

“No!” Stiles yelped as Derek jumped the final distance to roll into a crouch on their side of the walkway. He surged forward, trying to get into her path to take the blow himself. But it wasn’t Derek who prevented the blow from landing- Peter had moved as well.

“May I cut in, my dear?” He purred, seizing Kate up by her neck. They struggled, Peter holding Kate off her feet as she kicked and shoved at him. When that made no difference, she plunged her sai into his chest. Peter jerked back from the weapon instinctively and overbalanced them. They landed on the waiting scale behind the Anubis-kin, sprawled out. 

There was no slow weighing this time- the scale dropped like a stone and the whole pyramid rumbled.

“Ammit,” a voice called out calmly, and Stiles whipped his head around to see Deucalion gesture at the pair. 

Finally she moved. The Devourer roared and Kate scrambled to get off the scale, real, honest fear in her eyes for once. It didn’t matter. Ammit struck quicker than a cobra- her teeth clamped down around Kate’s ribs, bones snapping audible. Blood welled around Ammit’s fangs as she carried Kate’s limp, gasping form to the glowing portal behind Deucalion. 

She was tossed into the light, screaming. 

Ammit turned back towards Peter, motionless and defiant on the scale. When she moved, Deucalion held up a hand, stilling her. “ _A gift to my heirs,_ ” he stated cryptically, nodding towards Derek. Then he turned to Peter. “ _Stand at my side as my right hand._ ”

Stiles couldn’t even begin to process the offer because Ammit was changing shape right in front of their eyes. Her form melted into a woman with dark hair and strong, sure features... familiar ones at that. Derek made a wounded noise and collapsed to his knees in front of her.

“M..mother?” 

She nodded, a small smile on her lips, and Stiles felt his throat tighten up, at once envious and grateful for Derek. She moved to him and touched his forehead, tracing Derek’s cheek before cupping his chin. “My beautiful boy.... no more regrets. No more punishment. Live. For all of us.”

Bending, she placed a kiss on his forehead before her form dissolved into specks of light to fly back into the final gate. 

“Derek?” Stiles moved to help him stand up. He had an expression on his face that seemed caught between awe and sorrow and maybe something a little like relief. They both turned to look at Peter, spotting him following Deucalion through the Gate. 

“ _This place is not for you. Go._ ” Deucalion’s voice seemed to come from all around them, the room rumbling with the command. 

“What? What did he say?” Scott piped up, dark eyes huge and round. Stiles let out a hysterical laugh, throwing himself against his friend and hugging him tightly. “Uh, Stiles, this probably isn’t the best time-”

“It’s not. We have to get out of here,” Derek herded them all back towards the river. Allison was on the other side, still waiting for them. 

“The statue!” she called out, pointing to one not attached to its base anymore. “Push it into the river and jump!”

“Is she crazy?” Stiles gaped, balking as Scott and the Anubis-kin immediately moved towards it. “I’ll never make it!”

“We could always throw you,” Isaac flashed him a strained smile as the three of them shoved the huge statue. The ceiling was starting to come down around their ears. 

“This is taking too long, we should find another way,” Stiles urged. Of course that was when the statue finally fell into the river of beetles, crushing a large swath of them. They didn’t have much time before the beetles would scurry onto it and come for them. 

Scott and Isaac scrambled across it first, making the jumps one after the other. Then it was just Derek and Stiles left and he shook his head. “I won’t make it-”

“I know,” Derek replied and ducked his shoulder under Stiles’ ribs. Thrown over his shoulder- this was _not_ going to be a theme in their relationship- Stiles bounced along uncomfortably as Derek ran across the statue. The beetles were covering it up as quickly as Derek was able to move, and Stiles was certain they were going to be eaten alive at any moment.

Then they were weightless in the air as Derek jumped. 

They landed in a heap, jarring Stiles’ shoulder harshly, but Scott was already pulling him to his feet while Allison and Isaac helped Derek.

“Run!” Someone shouted (somewhat unnecessarily in Stiles’ opinion). 

The first gate they came across was nearly fully closed and Stiles realized that the rest would also be moving to seal the living world away from the realm of the dead in very short order. They flew through gate after gate, stumbling and yanking each other back onto their feet. Stiles’ chest burned, but he pushed himself on, grateful that Isaac and Derek stayed pace with him and Allison.

Scott was ahead of them. “I see light!”

When they caught up, they found Scott had braced himself between the huge doors that were the final gate. He strained to keep them open, lips pulled back in a tense snarl, baring fangs. “Go! I can’t hold it much longer!”

Allison darted through the gap and Stiles was shoved through by Derek before he even got to open his mouth to say a word of protest. Isaac scraped through barely, landing beside them. The gates were closing, forcing Scott’s arms to strain and bend under their pressure. He was slipping, unable to hold it anymore -and then Derek tackled him, throwing both of them clear of the gate outside of the pyramid.

The doors slammed shut with an ominous finality. 

“Scott!” Allison immediately threw herself on him, kissing him soundly. His eyes went wide but happy as he curled around her. A growling noise from Isaac made them all look up to find a group of disgruntled hunters waiting at the edge of the pyramid’s steps.

They were exhausted and unprepared-

“Stand down,” Argent’s voice called out as he came into their field of vision. He had a new bandage on his shoulder but otherwise seemed unharmed.

“Dad!” Allison flew off the steps and into him, hugging him tightly. “You’re safe? Is Lydia okay?”

“Lydia is ready for a real bath. I’m assuming that we won and Scott is safe and sound?” Lydia called out from where she was sitting on a chunk of masonry below where the airship was moored to a very sturdy carved column. She looked tired but relieved, immediately climbing off the hunk of rock to greet Allison with a hug as well.

Suddenly the sky exploded with birds taking off as howls echoed all around them. Stiles couldn’t tell how many, it felt like thousands. “ _What- what- what_! What do we have to fight _now_?!”

Scott grinned, head cocked like a terrier, eyes flashing gold. “Those aren’t angry.... they’re happy. I think they won?”

“Laura,” Lydia murmured, closing her eyes and relaxing against Allison’s side.

“ _Laura_?” She repeated, arching a brow and smirking at the redhead.

“I can’t believe we did it,” Stiles breathed out, slumping against Scott’s shoulder. 

“I can’t believe I was dead,” he mused, touching at his wrist.

“Hey, that thing’s _still_ attached?” Stiles reached over to touch the bracelet. “Oh man, what else do we havta do it? Offer blood sacrifices?!”

“The Bracelet of Anubis only comes off under the light of a Sickle Moon,” Isaac offered, making the pair turn towards him and stare. “You never asked.”

Scott approached Isaac to talk to him more (and probably introduce himself since there wasn’t really time at Hamunaptra what with the death threats). In any case, it gave Stiles a chance to look back towards Derek to see how he was faring. He was staring up at the pyramid, still kneeling where he’d landed.

Moving to him, Stiles placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. He knew Derek’s thoughts were full of his mother and his uncle, knowing that they were cut off from him. Stiles hoped that seeing his mom, even like that, had given him some measure of peace. 

“I’m all right, Stiles,” Derek told him quietly as he stood up, dusting himself off. He was very close, but Stiles was glad when Derek didn’t immediately back away. 

“Good. Now we just have to make sure you stay that way,” Stiles replied, blinking when Derek gave him a soft smile.

“We?” he murmured, brushing his nose against Stiles’ own. An abrupt whistle made him jump. Argent was barking orders to the hunters, apparently intending to lead them on a very long journey to the nearest city so they could catch transport back to Cairo.

“Are you sure you want to take that thing back?” Argent was talking to Allison as Scott already climbed up on the airship, exclaiming over it excitedly to Lydia. She seemed a little baffled but charmed. 

“It’s safe, dad. You rode in it yourself, you should know,” Allison pointed out with a knowing look in her eyes. 

“He’s probably more concerned about the selection of handsome men you would be all alone with,” Stiles waggled his brows at Argent, but Derek grunted and shoved him towards the rope later. “Hey!”

“Dad, it’s fine,” Allison assured him. “Call or telegraph me when you end up somewhere safe, okay?”

With a kiss on his cheek, she turned back to the airship, climbing up the ladder. Isaac was there, offering his hand to help her up onto the deck. 

“What you did back there- against your own kind, your own family... it took a lot of guts,” Isaac spoke up, looking down at Allison, new respect and awe shining in his eyes. She blushed, a pleased smile on her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“Admire her later, get that ladder up out of the way and untie the mooring. I wasn’t kidding about that bath,” Lydia ordered. 

“Better do what she says, she’ll purposefully steer the ship badly if you don’t,” Stiles piped up, laughing at the look Lydia shot him. It didn’t matter. They were all safe and alive.

And hey, they saved the world too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the smoopy epilogue to go now. It'll be up in a day probably.


	14. Epilogue

_April 11, 1933  
Hamunaptra, Egypt_

_Scott, Allison & Isaac_

“How many more full moons to go?” Scott huffed out, sitting in the sand and peering up at the night sky. Their camp was small but well stocked with provisions and defenses, though they hadn’t had a peep of trouble, thank goodness. It was beautiful and quiet in Hamunaptra, but still, Scott was restless to be home in Cairo, to see his mom. She and his new stepdad had to have come home from their honeymoon by now. 

Though he was kinda glad Stiles was the one stuck explaining what had happened. 

“It’s only another five more,” Allison soothed, handing cups of mulled wine to him and Isaac. The light from the fire gilded her hair and Scott was distracted from his thoughts for a moment. “And being out here isn’t so bad. Dad is starting to trust all of us with the digs, even Stiles.”

That was a nice thought, but it didn’t last. “I can’t believe this. After all that with Ahm Shere, the bracelet _still_ can’t come off except under some, some-”

“Sickle moon,” Isaac supplied helpfully, a sly smirk twisting his lips. He bumped shoulders with Scott, pressing their bodies together all the way down to their hips. It was a nice warmth, but it still made Scott feel a little bashful and awkward, especially when Allison draped her legs over his lap so Isaac could work her boots off and rub her feet.

“Do you still think that I was a princess in another life?” she asked, peering inquisitively over the top of her tin cup. 

Scott gave a bashful smile. “You’ve always been a princess,” He told her truthfully, biting his lip. “I’m not sure if I believe in past lives. I’m not sure I want to. It was sad the way she died.”

Allison nodded, thoughtful, as she sipped at her wine. Isaac curled down around Scott, arm braced behind his back as Isaac’s chin rested on his shoulder. 

“I like this life,” he pointed out, almost tentative.

“Me too.” Scott replied, meeting Allison’s eyes as she nodded. Sickle moons, Anubis-kin, whatever the world had to offer... they’d be okay.

*****

_April 11, 1933  
Martin Residence, Cairo, Egypt_

_Laura & Lydia_

The Martin residence was finally somewhat habitable, nearly two months after everything had gone down. Remarkably, most of Lydia’s staff had returned to work for her (well, her parents, but they were still out of the country and still blissfully unaware). She was particularly pleased about Henry returning. 

But she was most pleased by the dark-haired woman sprawled out in the sheets next to her as they dozed in the light of the setting sun. She curled a lock of Laura’s hair around her finger as she watched the fan move lazily overhead. “I think a light soup and some crispy vegetables over bulgur for dinner. Paired with a good white wine, Pouilly Fuisse-”

“Come with me back to Hamunaptra.” Laura broke in, apropos of nothing. Lydia blinked, sitting up and unsettling her mussed hair around her face. “And then out to the deserts where I come from,” she added.

“No.” Lydia declared, smoothing her fingers through her hair. Her lips twitched as she suppressed a sly smile. “You should come with me back to Paris.”

“And forget the fact I’m Alpha of my pack?” Laura shifted restlessly, letting the sheet fall away from her completely as she sat up as well and then moved off the bed.

Lydia snorted delicately even as she admired the view of Laura walking over to the pitcher set on a small table. “No, just let someone else take charge for a little while,” She waved a hand dismissively. “Derek... or Cora. She seemed like she was sensible, if somewhat dour.”

Laura narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she drank out of her cup. Lydia kept her face pleasantly neutral, though she was having trouble keeping still. Laura’s regard did that to her now. 

Finally she spoke. “How about a deal,” Laura offered, setting down her cup and moving back to the bed. “You come with me for six months out to _my_ Egypt, to show you the world I know and love... and then I’ll come with you to Paris.”

“Hmmm.” Lydia considered, tapping a finger against her bottom lip.

“That way you can make that symposium and present your findings like I know you’ve been plotting to since you started this conversation.”

She laughed delightedly, throwing her arms around Laura’s shoulders. “Well, when you put it that way, how could a girl refuse?” she mused, dipping her head down to exchange a slow, lingering kiss. Which turned into another and then another. 

Finding herself lying on her back, she smirked. “And that will also give me a chance to find that husband I’ve been needing for my plans.”

“Oh, you little _brat_ -”

Lydia had standing orders to the staff to ignore any noises from her room- which was a good thing when her shrieking laughter turned into breathy moans.

*****

_April 11, 1933  
Cairo, Egypt_

_Stiles & Derek_

“Lydia mentioned a colleague of her father’s, a Dr. Jones, that was interested in the area-”

“No, Stiles.” Derek’s reply was voiced somewhere near the small of Stiles’ back, tongue moving across the younger man’s skin in a meandering pattern that followed the moles he’d found. He intended to find every one, though probably not that night. The light creeping in from the window suggested that it was closer to dawn than he’d first realized. 

“- thought we might want to meet him. She was _very_ complimentary. Granted his focus is Judeo-Christian mythology...or was that his father-”

“No, Stiles.” Derek moved up to brush his lips along the shell of Stiles’ ear. He’d lost all train of thought the last time Derek had done it. Though he’d been doing a few other things as well-

“-the Ark of the Covenant would be an amazing f-oooof!” Stiles’ grin gave away his game when Derek pinned him in place on his back. Stiles was warm, naked, and obviously happy to drive Derek to distraction. He should feel a lot more despairing of how it had all ended up, but Derek couldn’t be bothered at the moment.

“You can harass Dr. Jones another time,” Derek told him firmly, hands on either side of Stiles’ head. “We’re taking a break.”

“I might get bored.” Stiles warned, mischief bright in his eyes.

“I guarantee you _won’t_.”

End


End file.
